Slave to Love
by ThereIsMoreThanOneOfEverything
Summary: Some people are meant to be alone. Others will die loving them without condition.
1. Gone

** Note: Slash-story, obviously… just saying so no one gets surprised. I'd planned for this one to be about half a dozen dark chapters about them being pulled back to the island, and though there are dark elements, it pretty much went somewhere kinky instead. Ended this series at the point that seemed natural – will pick up the story under a new title, same thumbnail image, soon. **

* * *

The first time Sawyer disappeared without a word or a trace it was fourteen months after they'd all made it home. It wasn't the first time he'd bolted, just the first time he'd disappeared.

Jack didn't panic until he heard Hurley's reaction.

"Oh, no, man… do you think?" Hurley had said, and Jack filled in the blanks.

Did he think they were being tracked? They'd never really be free? Maybe Sun was right when she said she'd seen familiar faces trailing Jin and her around Seoul?

"I'm sure he's fine," Jack said, "He probably ran again. You know how he gets."

Sawyer normally warned Jack in advance; said he'd be gone for a few days that turned into a week, or a month that turned to half a summer. He'd send Jack text messages, an actual email sometimes, and pictures- always pictures, every day. Sometimes they were safe for work: Road signs, quirky things he spotted or scenic vistas. Other times they were of his thumb on the wet, flared tip of his cock or his fingers torturing a reddened nipple. One video featured two of his fingers deep inside him, twisting, and the sound of him coming hard. That one had gotten Jack through an entire separation.

Jack understood: Sawyer had been institutionalized twice – once in prison, once on the island. He'd do what he wanted now and go where he wanted, and death to anyone who got in his way.

This time was different, though: No matter how many times he swung by Sawyer's apartment or checked his own phone for a message, Sawyer was just _gone_ and Jack could barely breathe.


	2. Three Times Better

Sawyer can't breathe. It's surreal, and it gets worse when he realizes something's breathing for him. He feels steady pain flowing from his left shoulder through his chest, hears a high, clear beeping sound and Jack nearby, shouting. That combination is enough to send another wave of panic through him until he realizes it's bright and cool, not dank and dark like the hatch. Then he remembers leaving Seattle, and heavy rain falling unexpectedly as he got to the highway. He wonders if his bike is destroyed. 'Probably not the point,' he thinks.

"I don't give a flying _fuck_ about your _protocol_," he hears what Jack's yelling now, realizes it's another doctor Jack's yelling at. "Being conscious on a ventilator is hell. Put him under right now, or I'll make sure he sues you 'til he owns this hospital. Then I'll make sure he hires me to run it and I'll _change_ your goddamned protocol."

"Go get 'em, doc," he thinks.

He feels a burning sensation run up his arm. Then he feels nothing at all and it's so good that he'd cry with relief if he could.

* * *

Jack's sitting in the recliner next to his bed and tapping out an email on his phone.

"Hey," Sawyer gets a jolt when he hears how ragged his own voice sounds. He knows it's bad when Jack looks at him and then away for a second.

"Your left shoulder got ripped up," Jack says. "You'll have new surgery scars to go with the bullet wound. Tree branch punctured your lung. And you've got a bone bruise on your right hip. Last one might not sound like a big deal, but…"

"I know what a bone bruise is. I get sick from that damn ventilator?"

"Pneumonia," Jack says. "Happens a lot."

Sawyer takes it all in, including how white and worn Jack looks.

"Why are you here?" Sawyer finally asks.

"I'm your emergency contact."

"That's why you got called. It's not why you're here now. How long's it been?"

"Twelve days. Went home to wrap some things up. Told 'em I'll be back when I'm back."

"You nursed me through one disaster. But we're not stranded this time, and that's what these places are for. Go home."

Sawyer stares at the ceiling as he says it, but the silence is so long that he finally gives in, looks back to see Jack staring down, flipping the phone around in his hands.

"You have to get out of here, James. Once you're out of danger, hospitals are only good for getting sicker. But you'll need weeks of physical therapy. Most people go to a rehab facility or a nursing home."

"No way. No fucking way am I going to a…."

"I got us an apartment," Jack cut in. "Hired a therapist to make house visits 'til you're well enough to fly back to L.A. I'll leave if that's what you really want, but who would you rather have helping you around? Me or some stranger in a uniform?"

Sawyer's eyes went back to the ceiling.

"I don't know why I do half the shit I do. Why I say crap like that."

"Of course you do," Jack said. "You know exactly why. So do I."

* * *

Jack hadn't mentioned the apartment being on one of the islands off of Seattle, or the deck with a view of the water. Sawyer spent a lot of time outside, stretched out with a book watching boats go by. Jack spent most of the day on the computer or watching movies. They both expected it to be weeks of misery, to feel smothered, but they both got peace instead. Probably, Jack thought, the only peace they'd ever have together.

Jack slept on the sofa, Sawyer on the California king in the bedroom for twelve hours at a clip, healing. Then came night fifteen, when Jack woke from a dead sleep to hear Sawyer whispering his name, feel Sawyer's fingers reaching down to run over his face and through his hair.

"Need something?" Jack was confused, on his feet before he was really awake. Then he felt Sawyer holding onto his arms, watching Jack, waiting patiently for him to surface before he reached in to kiss him.

There was nothing affectionate about it, just the familiar, tight clench of Sawyer's jaw and the way he demanded to have all of Jack's mouth. It always started with the sweet press of lips and sliding, twining tongues but inevitably Sawyer bit as much as he kissed. Greedy, Jack thought, his mouth on fire and his body starting to respond. Even his kiss is greedy. He'd missed it so much.

Jack pulled back, breathless, running a hand over Sawyer's bad hip. He had come to get him in his boxers, and a Jack was torn between the urge to pin him against the wall and pull them off, and the thought that it was probably too soon.

"I'll be fine. Already held a trial run in the shower this morning," Sawyer said and smiled when Jack laughed. "Hip's okay if I don't go too crazy. Gotta watch the shoulder."

"You didn't call me? Let me watch?" Jack asked, reaching in to kiss his neck, to smell and taste the skin he hadn't tasted in a month.

"Almost called you looking for help. Had to do it 'wrong handed,'" Sawyer was still smiling when Jack stepped back, but it faded as he looked him in the eye. "I was going to take off for good. I wasn't coming back this time."

"Why?" Jack asked, not reacting at all, and it hit Sawyer he hadn't told him anything he hadn't already figured out.

"'Cause it's been over a year, and if I don't leave now I probably never will."

"How often did you think about me, Sawyer?" Jack knew he wouldn't get a fast answer to that one, so he stepped back in, started planting kisses from his wounded shoulder over to his good one. "You were gone almost two weeks before the hospital called. Did you think about me two times? Five?"

"Don't ask me shit like that," Sawyer spit out the words. "You know I don't... I can't..."

Jack might be pushing it, but Sawyer didn't stop him from his circuit of kisses and licks and little bites, didn't stop Jack when he slid his hands in his shorts to lay them flat against his lower back and pull him closer.

"Sure you can. Give me something, Sawyer, anything. How often did you think about me?"

"All the time. And you goddamn knew that or you wouldn't have asked."

"Maybe you should come home with me, then," Jack did strip him of his shorts, dropped his own enough to get a hand around them both and he heard Sawyer sigh as he started stroking, felt him give a first, tentative pop of the hips. "Maybe you should get me out of your system before you take off for good."

Jack knows Sawyer needs to run things tonight, after giving up so much in so few words. So when they walk down the hall he does what he's asked, sits on the bed with his head against the wall, holds on to Sawyer's ass, the backs of his thighs, and lets him push into his mouth minute after minute. Sawyer goes shallow at first, cautious, feeling it out and then it's all fast, deep thrusts, Sawyer pulling almost all the way out of him every time until ropes of saliva and pre-come are stretching from the head of his cock to the top of Jack's flicking, dancing tongue.

Then Sawyer's hips push his way one more time and stay there, and Jack looks up to see Sawyer holding onto the top of the headboard, eyes closed, shaking. He can feel how much he wants to push deep, so he sucks and gives a soft groan of assent, jumps when Sawyer responds by thrusting, filling him, going down Jack's throat and stretching his mouth until it burns. It's a new sensation, overwhelming, and Jack isn't sure how long he can take it. He moves a hand to massage his balls, to press and push and tease the skin behind them, feels the throb and the twitch and then Sawyer is shooting down his throat, a shout that's part joy and part despair pouring out of him. He knows it's the best thing Sawyer's felt in a long time, so he works him hard, swallowing over him until he's spent and then letting him slip out slowly, helping him down to the bed.

Jack sits back, catching his own breath, the back of his hand going over his wet mouth, and he thinks that Sawyer would never believe him if he told him how much he'd give, how much he'd pay just to see him like his every night, flat on his back, one arm over his head, blown to pieces.

"Fuck me," Sawyer breathes it, his voice deep and heavy and Jack laughs, thinking it's an expression until Sawyer reaches for him, his eyes burning into him.

It ends up feeling three times better than it ever has, because it's the last thing Jack was expecting.

* * *

Jack was in the kitchen the next morning making breakfast when he heard footsteps and saw Sawyer walk in the room. His hair was still wet from the shower and he was wearing pants, not sweats, slowly fixing the last of the buttons on his shirt.

"I'm ready to fly," he said. "Next few days, maybe a week. Don't care exactly when, but let's go home."

"Okay. It's kind of soon, but God knows you've been through worse with less care after. One thing, though," Jack said, reaching out for Sawyer's 'good' hand, reeling him in close. "You can move in if you want, leave anytime you want. You can leave me fourteen times and come back fifteen …."

Sawyer started to pull away and Jack stopped him, twisting his arm hard enough to make the point, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"But if you ever disappear again and you don't let me know where you are or that you're okay, I swear to God I'll hire someone to find you. And then I'll make you so fucking sorry you did it. I mean it, James, I swear I will."

"Okay. I get it," Sawyer snapped, shaking his arm free. "I hear you."

"Good," Jack said, grabbing their plates.

"I've got a 'just one thing' of my own, though, babe," Sawyer said as he sat, glaring. "You're gonna tell me right now what the fuck's got you all freaked out. Been waiting since I woke up in the hospital for you to volunteer it, but you won't, so…. what's going on that I don't know about?"


	3. Fade Into You

The nagging secret had started with a text message that Hurley sent Jack two days before Jack headed back to Seattle. It read, 'we've gotta talk'. They met for lunch at a place along the shore, and Jack couldn't help noticing how they all chose to have water nearby whenever possible.

Sayid was at the table, and that was a surprise. Jack gave him a clap on the back on his way to his seat.

"Shannon's step-mother is ill," Sayid didn't wait for Jack to ask why he wasn't in London. "She and Boone are at your hospital. I looked for you, then I called Hurley."

"They don't get along, do they?" Jack said. "Shannon and her step mom? It's good she's here for her. She'll be glad she did it someday."

"Shannon's grown up a lot in a short time. She gets that you do not have to like everything someone does in order to care about them."

Jack made a huffing sound of understanding; saw a small grin on Sayid's face.

"How _is _Sawyer, Jack? Better, I hope."

"Somewhat. Still unconscious, but stable. Breathing without help. I'll know more when I go back tomorrow. Listen, it's always good to see you, Sayid but you wouldn't leave Shannon unless something's up. So… what's up?"

Jack saw Sayid look at Hurley, a glance that said "you first, or shall I?"

"I was driving the A5 last week." Sayid dove in. "Someone tried to run me off the road, or at least suggested they might. They hit my back bumper twice, fairly hard both times and then peeled off at an exit. In talking with Hurley later…it turns out it happened hours after Sawyer's crash."

"Coincidence," Jack said it fast, saw Sayid smile patiently. "Or your job, maybe? You do work for a spy agency, Sayid."

"I am a lowly cog in the enormous tech development division of the MI6. There is only one shady organization that'd threaten me, that may want to re-appropriate me, Jack, and we know who they are."

"Re-appropriate?"

Jack looked to Hurley and his heart fell when Hurley reached into his pocket and set an envelope on the table. There was no postmark, no stamp, just Hurley's name scrawled on the front in familiar handwriting. Jack pulled out the sheet of lined paper inside and read the one line of text.

"_Are you sure you're really home?_ Why the hell would he ask you that?"

"My driver was taking me around town and these cars surround us, force us to the side," Hurley looked so calm that his words sounded unreal. "Guy walks to my window and taps, and because I'm an idiot, I roll it down and I get this: a note from John friggin' Locke. They _hand _delivered it to me from the island, right? 'Cause you know Locke's never leaving there. And yeah, it happened the same day."

"We've beenhome over a year, why would they think they could ever…"

"Dude, what are we supposed to do if they try to come after us again? Call the LAPD?" Hurley was grinning, but it wasn't a happy one. "Call our congressperson?"

"Jack, you haven't been in close touch with us since we got back, and I think I can speak for the rest of us when I say we understand. You've had a lot to deal with. But it means you don't know…" Sayid looked to Hurley for support. "There's a certain ennui we've all had, a feeling of not quite belonging anywhere. I'd venture to guess it's why Sawyer does what he does. Have you not felt it?"

Jack just shook his head, and Sayid went on.

"You aren't self-analytical, Jack, but I want to you to try something: Think about your life if Sawyer were gone- if he took off for good, or this accident had taken him from us as it almost did. How is the rest of your life, your life aside from him?"

Jack couldn't answer for a second, remembering the hollow, empty panic of the last two weeks and how they'd dragged on like months.

"It's fine. I work, I eat, I sleep. Get up and do it again. It's work, it's …life."

"I'm sorry, Jack," Sayid pushed his chair back a little, looked out at the water. "What you just said, it's not fine, not really. It is, though, how every one of us answers that question when asked. We are all going through the motions to a certain extent. And that means we are vulnerable."

"You can't be saying you want to go back there?" Jack said.

"No way. No one's headed for the Port of L.A. looking to see if the sub's around," Hurley said. "But we need to know what's up, support each other."

"I can't… I'm sorry, I'm not sure I can believe this," Jack said. "They haven't done anything to try to get to me…"

"Of course they have," Sayid broke in, sounding impatient for the first time with Jack's stubborn desire not to see. "Jack, when it's the right time you have to ask Sawyer- ask him what made him crash. I'd bet large sums it wasn't a rainstorm."

"Hey, I'llbet _this_ is the only news that'll cheer Kate up for awhile, huh? At least they can't get to her…." Hurley was trying to break the mood but the thought of Kate in an orange jumpsuit in Iowa did little to lighten things up.

"Sorry, Hurley," Sayid gave a sympathetic shrug. "I don't think there's anything that'll make a thirty to life prison sentence palatable. Even this."

"Oh hell," Jack slumped, a hand going to his forehead as if the last few seconds had made the last ten minutes really sink in for him.

"It's okay," Hurley said. "It'll be okay."

"Will it, Hurley?" Jack peered at him through his fingers.

"Aw, I don't know. Maybe it all goes to shit from here. Just trying to be upbeat, man," Hurley said, and somehow that's what let them have a slightly hysterical laugh together.

* * *

"Let me make sure I've got this," Sawyer said. He was done breakfast, flipping his fork between his fingers now, staring at his empty plate.

"Those zealot freaks we got free of might have knocked me hard on my ass to put a scare in you, let you know they're gunning for us. And you still want me to come home? So they can try again later, maybe? That's pretty fuckin' selfish, Jack. I'm right proud of how far you've come."

Jack was sideways in his chair, watching the edges of a wry smile spread across Sawyer's face and it made him shake his head.

"I want you to come back because I think we're safer together than alone. And because it doesn't matter either way; they'll always be able to use you against me."

"Jesus," the smile dropped from Sawyer's face quickly when he heard how Jack murmured the last few words. He set his fork down, looking anywhere but back at him. "You shouldn't want me, Jack. If you really knew me, you wouldn't. You wouldn't want me at all."

"We're about a year too far gone for 'shouldn't' and 'wouldn't', don't you think?" Jack asked, and since Sawyer didn't have anything to say to that he went on. "Do you remember? What happened before your crash?"

"No. Remember heading south on the highway and how it started to rain. Thought I should probably pull over. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. Is that unusual?"

"Not really. Small pain, like hitting your thumb with a hammer – it's protective to remember that. Harsher pain… it makes sense to forget it."

"Yeah," Sawyer said. "Nice if that worked for every big misery, huh?"

Jack ran a hand over the back of his head. He wanted to reach over and comfort Sawyer, but he knew it was the last thing that was wanted in return. He waved toward the deck.

"I'm gonna go watch the water awhile, okay?"

"Sure. I'll clean up," Sawyer said.

* * *

Jack had only been sitting back in the lounger on the deck for about ten minutes watching the grey sky and flat, black water. He was just starting to come close to letting go of all thought when Sawyer was there again. Jack heard him as much as saw him, the way he slid shut the door to the living room, padding over to him in bare feet.

Jack looked up and noted for the first time how lanky and sinewy Sawyer was, standing over him. The thought of what he'd been through that had left him in that shape made Jack look away, blinking.

"Don't say anything," Sawyer's voice was like gravel and Jack nodded. "I mean it. Don't fucking say a thing or I can't do what I came out here for."

"Yeah," Jack said, made space as Sawyer dropped down next to him. He saw Sawyer flinch as his bad hip settled in, and he reached around to wrap an arm around Sawyer's left shoulder, to try to brace it.

"Stop it. I'm fine," Sawyer's voice was a warning.

"Yeah, you're fine. You're always fine…." Jack said.

"I said shut the fuck up," Sawyer shifted again, pushing Jack's protective hand away. Then Sawyer was kissing him; small licks and brushes of lip to lip and tongue to tongue that started soft and went deep quickly.

Jack waited for the kiss to turn signature harsh and hard until he realized it wasn't going to happen this time. Sawyer's arm had snaked around him, a hand firm against the back of Jack's neck, pulling him in, possessive as always. But that mouth- so soft, so gently, openly hungry and needy for the first time; Jack couldn't do anything but fade into it, wanted to die fading into him.

Then Sawyer's other arm pulled their hips tight together and it started to lose any semblance of just being about a kiss. Sawyer was the first to groan, fingers fighting with Jack's belt. They had each other pulled apart quickly; shirts open, pants around their knees, skin against skin, ecstatic tongues and fingers prodding, tugging.

Jack laughed into Sawyer's mouth.

"What's so funny?"

He noticed how Sawyer barely stopped kissing him to ask.

"We look like a couple of teenagers in the back of a car," Jack reached around, shoved his tongue into Sawyer's ear to make the point.

"Don't let it go to your ego." Sawyer sighed, angling his ear into Jack's tongue. "Don't get all big headed about it…"

"About what?

"That I love you back," Sawyer said, felt Jack freeze under him. "That's what I came out here for… to tell you. I don't know how to do this, don't have a clue. But I'll try. Fuck, I'll try, Jack."

Jack had Sawyer wordless soon after that, and the way Sawyer lay there in full daylight and let Jack watch him, hear him shaking apart in his hands was beautiful sensory overload.

He'd never felt more powerful and more possessed at the same time.


	4. When All You've Got Is Hurt

**Squick warning: Darker side of our guys throughout this entire story. This time, allusions to past BDSM behavior. **

Jack knew there'd be a cost for Sawyer opening up, so he wasn't surprised when he barely got a direct look from him their last four days in Seattle. Still, Jack would often wake up with Sawyer's head on his shoulder, an arm heavy on Jack's chest. It was enough.

"Got three more. In the mail." They were the first words out of Hurley's mouth when he called. "Not hand written. Same words, though, and sand in all three envelopes."

"Were they postmarked?" Jack asked.

"Sydney, L.A. and Ann Arbor, Michigan. That last one mean anything to you?"

"It's the headquarters of a group of people they wiped out like insects." Jack said. They're so good with mind-games, I'll give them some credit for that."

Sayid called, too.

"They seem to have a particular desire to get a few of us back," he'd said. "You, me, Hurley, the Kwons. Charlie and Claire have had no incidents. I spoke with Kate; no odd letters, no visitors she was not expecting."

"You didn't mention James," Jack said, and there was a pause.

"How many of them did Sawyer take out the day we ferried people to the Searcher on the outriggers?" Sayid asked. "Eight? I think they brought him for a purpose, too, but they've realized they can't break him. Now he's only useful to them as bait."

"What _purpose_ would there be to bringing us there?"

Jack knew he had no reason beyond frustration to bark at Sayid.

"I don't know. I believe we got away before we could find out, but I suspect it was bigger than having you operate on a middle-manager's spinal tumor. Anyway, hopefully you will now benefit fully from having a friend who works for an intelligence agency: I have people tracking for any sign of Benjamin Linus or Richard Alpert on the move, or anyone attached to them."

"Thank you, Sayid," Jack sighed. "I do appreciate it. Let's keep in touch."

* * *

Then they went back to Los Angeles, Sawyer moved in, and somehow life got much easier. Sawyer slept, ran the beach, built up his energy. Jack cut his fifteen-hour workdays to ten. Sawyer convinced him to not call Sayid and Hurley too often.

"If the boom's gonna fall, babe, we might as well be happy 'til it does," he'd said.

A few weeks later Sawyer came home late, later even than Jack. He dropped down on the other side of the couch and set a stack of books between them.

"'Crime and Criminality,' Jack read the titles. "'Judicial Process'. Summer reading?"

"If I get a criminal justice degree and spend a year working under someone else, I can be a private investigator. It's a good job, not boring. Be my own boss. And if you laugh I am leaving the room."

"I'm not laughing. You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Jack said, flipping through one of the books, enjoying the smile Sawyer quirked him.

The next Saturday Sawyer left the house early. Jack didn't say a thing when Sawyer walked in the kitchen late in the day, pulled a beer out of the refrigerator. He downed part of it and handed Jack the rest.

"I don't want a beer," Jack took it anyway, his back against the counter.

"Drink it so you don't taste it on me," Sawyer gave the bottle a flick and Jack drank, set it aside, accepted Sawyer's mouth in its place. Sawyer's tongue and the inside of his lips were warm after the cold beer, and Jack's hand went to the back of Sawyer's neck, making sure the sweet, caressing slip and slide went on as long as possible.

"What's this for?" Jack broke away long enough to ask, dipping back in.

"To celebrate." Sawyer ran his lips along Jack's cheek, said the next few words smiling ever so slightly against his skin. "Sold my apartment."

"But what will you do?" Jack tried to keep a straight face.

"What do you mean 'what will I do?'" Sawyer shot him a 'don't start with me' look.

"When I kick you out. Gonna go live in Hurley's parents' basement?"

Jack barely got the words out, laughing as Sawyer twisted him around, grabbing the collar of his shirt, pressing him into the counter. The laugh turned to a gasp when Jack pushed back and Sawyer slipped half a step, latched onto Jack's shirt and leaned against him for balance. They both froze that way for a second, Sawyer still laughing softly under his breath.

"I think…" Jack's voice shook as Sawyer turned Jack around again and started separating him from his pants. "I might be addicted to you."

"That is not a problem for me," Sawyer flipped open the bottom few buttons on Jack's shirt, trailing wet kisses southward as he dropped to his knees and Jack kicked the pants away from around his ankles. "How's it working for you?"

* * *

Their lives felt so on track, it almost beat back the lingering dark clouds. But Jack knew they were both still on edge.

He woke one night to hear Sawyer having a nightmare. A glance at the clock showed 4:15am, and he rolled sideways to press his chest against Sawyer's back.

"S'okay," he murmured into his ear, "You're home."

It usually worked, but not this time. Sawyer flipped around, tangling their legs, pinning Jack's right shoulder down hard. Jack could feel the hand that was holding him in place shaking as Sawyer dropped down, kissing him the way he used to - all tight jaws and a punishing, biting bid for domination.

"Wait, Sawyer… what the…"

Jack twisted under him, tried to turn his head, but the harder he tried to stop him the harder Sawyer went at him, both arms holding him in place now; the first one still pushing him into the bed, the other wrapped underneath Jack's other shoulder, fingers digging into the side of his head as he bit and growled and rocked into him.

Jack gasped a stunned, 'oh _God_,' into Sawyer's mouth, feeling Sawyer hard and wet against his hip, twitching already, and he realized whatever this was, it wasn't about him at all. Sawyer was somewhere else.

Jack was starting to feel frantic, deciding whether to fight back or give in to wherever this was going when Sawyer stopped, dropping his forehead to Jack's.

"What's wrong? James… tell me. Tell me what you need from me?"

Sawyer slid off of Jack and onto his stomach, tugging at Jack's arm.

"Fuckin' do it now… please. Just hard and fast and right _now_."

Sawyer was panting, his voice low and rasping and the sound of him in so much need outweighed Jack's doubts. He slid a pillow under him and spread James' legs further apart, positioning himself, pushing in slow since there'd been no preparation.

He tried to bite back a sound at the sweet, hot sensation of filling him, but gave in and groaned when James let go of a helpless, stuttering moan that Jack felt everywhere. Then James' face was buried in his pillow, his arms pushing hard against the bed and his hips twisting under Jack. The low, steady growling sound he'd been making before was back.

Jack did as he was asked, pushing into him hard and fast, huffing with the effort. He could feel that James was gone again, somewhere else, taking what Jack was doing to him and wrapping it up with whatever he'd been dreaming about and was probably still dreaming about. Jack heard a muttered whispering in between the growls, and dropped in to suck at Sawyer's neck, nudging his head back and to the side a little, both for access and to try to hear what he was saying.

"Yeah… like that… take it, just…fucking _take_ it…tell me you _want_ it like _this_.."

They were only whispers, but the fury in them took Jack's breath away, made him dizzy, and he lost his rhythm. He felt Sawyer jump and then gasp, felt him trying to get it back, clearly not ready to lose what he had playing out in his head.

Jack was done with it, though, determined to get him back before this was over. He urged Sawyer's hips up and reached to get his hand around him, squeezing hard before he started stroking. Jack hissed when he felt how wet and engorged Sawyer was in his hands, knew how over-sensitized he was by the way the growling stopped and Sawyer's started whining, shaking. Jack matched the pace of his hips, fucking him hard inside and out now and it was like a switch flipped: Sawyer was back with him, calling Jack's name out over and over, biting it out like a curse word, whispering it desperately.

Jack felt him freeze, seize up underneath him before he came hard and he tried to not follow right away, fought to keep his eyes open as Sawyer twisted and thrust randomly now, clamping down so hard around Jack, the muscles in his back rippling visibly under his skin. But it was too much, too good, and Jack gave in and let himself hit the wall, his body tight against Sawyer, pushing him hard into the bed with his last thrust as he breathed a long, strangled 'fuuuck' straight into his ear.

Jack stayed over him for a second, felt both of their hearts pounding fast, almost in time. He pulled out with another hiss and fell on his back, turned his head to look at Sawyer.

Sawyer was lying flat out on his stomach now, face three quarters still in the pillow, one eye watching Jack back. He looked dazed, but so very deeply relieved.

"What the fuck was that, James? Where _were_ you?"

Sawyer turned his head and pulled the pillow further under him, settling in.

Jack couldn't have said how long it took him to fall back asleep, but when he woke it was after ten and he could smell the humidity and the soap scent in the air that said the shower had been in use recently. He turned and saw a note on the far nightstand that read, 'Going to pick up the new bike. I'll be back before dinner.'

* * *

Sawyer was good to his word, walking back in at 6:00pm. He found Jack in the kitchen, cell phone on the granite top of the cooking island, menus in front of him.

"It's takeout and movie night," Jack said. "Just decided. Want to pick?"

"That sounds… awesome." Sawyer had left his boots at the door, but he was just unbuckling his chaps, pulling the leather off of his hips and down over his jeans. Jack found he had to look away.

"You were checkin' me out." Sawyer said and Jack laughed, head still turned.

"Yeah, well, don't get too excited about that. You're not getting anything more from me for at least two days. You got it all."

It cut right through the underlying edge of tension in the room and Jack was able to look back at him when Sawyer broke out laughing.

"Been thinking all the way home that there are things I have to say," Sawyer picked up the menus. "First, I'm not going. Just 'cause I got a new bike doesn't mean I'm taking off."

"Good. Not trying to change you, Sawyer, but for now…"

"Agreed. It's just that I've had a bike since I was sixteen and I need one, but I'm not taking off and I swear I won't ditch it. And second, I'm sorry. So fucking sorry…"

He stopped when he saw Jack shaking his head.

"I don't think you did anything that actually calls for an apology," Jack shrugged, a little of the smile still on his face. "At least… not to me. Unless that was me on the other end of things?"

"Nooo. No way, I would never…" Sawyer saw Jack's smile fade, replaced by worry and he stopped there, seemed unable to say anything more.

"I'm not mad, but," Jack was clearly searching for the right way to say what he'd been kicking around all day. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little freaked out. And, I don't know… concerned? The bottom line, though, is you can tell me anything, James. You really can. You don't have to hide _anything_ from me."

Sawyer looked down, hair obscuring his eyes, but Jack could see his stress in the way he was jamming his tongue into his cheek.

"I know I can, and mostly I do these days, but… there's this way you look at me. Thing is, no one else has ever looked at me that way and I don't want to lose that. I know I will, 'cause nothing lasts forever, but I want to keep it as long as I can."

Sawyer saw Jack nod, silent.

"I'm still sorry. And I love you, Jack," he said.

It was the first time he'd said it since Seattle, the first time he said it easily, without stress. Jack smiled, started to say it back when his phone buzzed and jumped with a text message. They both jumped too, laughing at themselves for reacting.

Jack picked up the phone and Sawyer picked up the menus and it started to feel like any other Sunday night again.

"I'm thinking Chineese food, old-school takeout. I'm thinking egg drop soup and egg roll, and…" Sawyer paused, looking up at Jack and his face fell. "Oh hell, what, babe?"

Jack handed him the phone. Sawyer saw Hurley's number, and the nine words: "Call me now. It's Jin and Sun. It's bad."


	5. Cornered, Heading West

"We should take off," Jack had hung up with Hurley, was flipping his phone around in one hand now. Sawyer had come to recognize the gesture; a sign Jack was very stressed. "A moving target's harder to hit, right?"

"Stop it," Sawyer pushed Jack's hand slowly to the counter.

"Stop? You mean _don't_ try to figure out how to keep them from ruining our lives?" Jack snapped the words out, the eyes that had been almost vacant a moment ago flashing, angry. "You really want to sit here and _wait_ for them to come after us?"

Sawyer thought how after three months of Jack being so damn careful and kind with him, it was good to see and hear him all riled up - even if he hated the reason.

"You're spinning." Sawyer took the phone away, set it on the counter. He draped Jack's arms around his hips then set his own hands on Jack's shoulders and ran them slowly up and down his arms. "All we know is Jin's hurt bad and Sun and their kid are gone. But those two have always been rockier than a beach in Maine, right? Maybe he started bossing her ass around again and she decided she'd had fucking enough."

Jack was shaking his head before Sawyer got the words out.

"Sun would never hurt him. She might leave, but… they were attacked. He was beaten, brutally; fractured skull, subdural hematoma, broken bones."

"Maybe she hired someone to help get her free and they overdid it. It happens. All I'm saying is I don't see solid proof all this is all connected yet. Do you see it?

"No," Jack murmured after a few second's thought. "But I'm afraid we will soon."

"May be. But we can't run 'til we do. Hurley's gonna hear more tomorrow, right?"

That got a blink and the smallest of nods from Jack, but the frown didn't leave his face. Sawyer reached in to kiss him twice, feather-light both times, fingers digging into his shoulders, thumbs making little circles. He watched Jack's eyes close, felt as much as saw him fighting the urge to take the kiss deeper.

"I rode for five hours today," Sawyer said, stepping back. "I'm starving and I need hot water on me. Wanna order the food?"

"Sure," Jack was flipping the phone around again as Sawyer headed up.

* * *

"I know what we need to do," Jack said an hour later, pushing the last bite of Buddhist Delight onto his fork.

"Yeah, so do I." Sawyer never looked away from the TV screen, kept eating Lo Mein from the carton, twirling it around his chopsticks. "We need to go to Seoul. It hit me while I was in the shower. Jin's English is getting there, but we can't talk with him about this on the phone. And it's plain good manners after all we went through."

"Exactly," It was only one word, but Sawyer heard so much relief in it. "If you figured it out in the shower, why didn't you say?"

"Thought I'd let you have your dinner in peace, first. Any chance I can convince you to stay home and do your thing and let me go worry about this for both of us?"

"No way in hell." Jack started picking up plates, cartons, headed for the kitchen. "We should invite Sayid, Shannon and Hurley to meet us there."

"Already texted them," Sawyer said. "Sayid is all in. Says Shannon can't make it. Hurley'll let us know tomorrow."

* * *

Four days later they were walking onto Flight 216, stowing their stuff in the overhead, taking their seats. One of the nicer little byproducts of having won millions of dollars from an airline was being able to buy all three seats in the first row, and Sawyer started dropping the stuff they wanted handy onto the middle seat. Jack stopped him.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Sawyer moved it all over to the aisle seat and sat next to him.

"We're not small guys," Sawyer settled in, tried to look annoyed but couldn't hide a smile, rubbing knees. "Thought you might like a little extra leg room."

"Screw that," Jack folded his hand over Sawyer's and looked out the window.

"This your first flight since we got home? Other than Seattle?" he asked and Jack nodded, watching the ground crew load the luggage, the meals.

"Have you flown a lot?" Jack sat back, looked at Sawyer and then at their hands. "That first year, when you left town all the time, did you fly a lot?"

"Yeah, enough." Sawyer kept it short. Jack could feel him trying to draw his hand away, so he did first, gave him an out.

"Were you looking for him? The guy who took your parents?"

It was the first time the question had been asked in all the time since their escape, and when Sawyer didn't respond for nearly ten seconds Jack thought he wasn't going to get an answer.

"Yes. The longer trips – anytime I was gone more than a week or two, that's what I was up to. Got a line on him in Florida, missed him by two days. Heard he was in Arizona, missed him by hours, just… hours."

Sawyer muttered it, watching as people walk by them to their seats.

"You're not still going to…."

"At first I wanted to. But the risk of going back to prison? I think I'd rather make him hurt the way Jin's hurting now, the way I did three months ago. Maybe I just _about_ kill him, let him heal up for a couple of years and then find him again. Rinse and repeat 'til the bastard drops dead on his own."

"Jesus, Sawyer," Jack whispered, shifting in his seat.

"Don't ask me questions you don't want answered." Sawyer's voice took on the warning tone it always did when he was sorry Jack had asked something difficult.

"Do you run scams when you're away?" Jack said, saw Sawyer flinch.

"When I _was_ away," Sawyer said. "Told you I'd try, Jack, and I am trying. Haven't gone anywhere since I moved in, have I? Anyway, I only ran some small things, just made a few bucks and kept my skills sharp. If you didn't do surgery on someone for a year, wouldn't you expect to get fuzzy about the whole process?"

"Actually, yes," Jack said, saw Sawyer sit back, the one who was stressed now and hoping the conversation was over.

"It's about control, isn't it?" Jack said. "You don't need the money. But people who don't have any control over their lives at all, especially when they're kids… they end up needing it so much, like a drug. That's the third reason you kept taking off, isn't it? That's what the other night was about?"

Jack saw it register in Sawyer's eyes as the steward locked the plane's doors, that Jack had asked all this when he did because there was absolutely nowhere for Sawyer to go. Most people would have looked away at the fury in Sawyer's eyes, but Jack kept his gaze.

"If you need something… it's not fair, Sawyer. It's not fair to assume you can't get it from me before you even ask me."

"Fuck, baby, don't do this, please." Sawyer looked like he was going to get up and head for the restroom if nothing else.

"I'm not made of glass, Sawyer. And I'm your lover, but I'm not your girlfriend."

Jack was relieved to hear Sawyer chuckle at that, to feel him reach in, running his lips and his tongue over the stubble on Jacks chin, along his jaw, to hear the low, soft 'mmm' sound he made as he did.

"I'm not confused about that, doc, not even a little," Sawyer said straight into his ear, and Jack tried to remember the last time he'd called him that. "You feel better than any woman I've ever had; hotter, tighter, more intense. You give better head, too. It's not even close. Gotta fight so hard sometimes, not to come fast when I'm with you. Gotta think about dirty sneakers and piles of dead puppies…"

Jack laughed at that, loud enough to be embarrassed, felt Sawyer's lips smiling against his skin.

"But I am yours now, and you are mine. And there are things you just don't do…"

"I can see you might not want to go so far you can't see the line behind you," Jack jumped in, nearly cut him off. "But step over it. Maybe I'll like it. I think… I think I might like it."

"Aw hell," Sawyer didn't look as furious as before, more pained in a different way. "Did you have to put that in my head with a twelve hour flight in front of us?"

* * *

They got to Seoul at an absurd hour, checked into their hotel and found that Sayid and Hurley were downstairs in the hotel restaurant waiting for them. Somehow they made it through the meal, though jetlag made it feel like a dream that night, and forever after.

"Why couldn't Shannon make it?" Jack had asked and Sayid had shaken his head as if Jack had asked him the hardest riddle ever.

"Ask me tomorrow. Ask me before we go in to see Jin, okay?"

"I don't know what to order," Hurley had said, flipping through the menu. "What the hell time is it?"

"Order what you want, Hugo," Sawyer had said. "It's every time."

Sawyer and Jack collapsed into bed after, a tangle of arms and legs, too exhausted to say goodnight. But even as he fell into sleep Jack knew Sawyer was going to take him up on his offer when they woke up.


	6. Submission

** This chapter ... goes there. Just saying so. One big plot detail at the very end. **

* * *

Jack was so sure he'd wake up with Sawyer reaching for him, maybe already all over him, that the calm silence was almost confusing. He rolled over and saw faint light through the window, Sawyer staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" Jack sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I remember." Sawyer said. "Had a jumpy night, dreaming about the trip here. Then I'm face down in a wet ditch back in Seattle. It's pouring out and water's getting in my helmet and I can't get up; hurts too much any way I try. I'm thinking 'this is pathetic- I'm gonna drown in a damned ditch.' I hear someone yell, 'he's moving, he's alive.'"

"EMTs?" Jack saw Sawyer barely shake his head.

"It was the creep who took Walt from the raft. Should've shot him the day we blew their buddies to pieces. Sorry I didn't. I heard him telling some guy he'd 'overdone' it, and 'that wasn't what we were sent to do.'"

Jack felt a chill from the fear in Sawyer's voice as much as his words.

"Jack, you were right; they took Sun. They'll take you all. They'll save you for last and kill me or leave me with nothing."

"Don't give up. It's not like you." Jack slid back down next to him. "We outsmarted them once, we'll do it again."

Sawyer drew in a long breath and closed his eyes.

"Try to go back to sleep," Jack said. "It's going to be a long day."

* * *

"What kind of shape you think he'll be in?" Sawyer pulled at his shirt collar, unzipped his jacket as they walked the long hallway toward Jin's hospital room.

Jack knew it was partly just being in a hospital that had Sawyer fidgeting.

"Hurley's already there. He called when you were in the shower to say Jin's awake and comfortable – in other words, doped up. He might be up for talking or maybe not. Let's not push him, okay?"

"Absolutely not," Sawyer said. "Wait all week if we have to. We're here for him, too."

They were so preoccupied they almost walked by Sayid, who was sitting in the lounge not far from Jin's room. Jack saw him in time and threw an arm out to slow Sawyer.

"Sayid, what's up?" Hey…"

Sayid was half facing the hall, but he never saw them until Jack shook his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I've been… preoccupied. Oh, hell." Sayid muttered the last part sadly as they pulled up chairs and joined him. He waved the cellphone in his hand. He didn't have to say who he was referring to.

"Why isn't she here with you?" Jack asked and Sayid seemed to go away from them a little again.

"It's not entirely her fault. She's come so far. But you can never truly escape it when your own family abandons you, leaves you broke and scrabbling to survive. Her insecurity is why anyone can get to her with money. She can never have enough."

Jack looked at Sawyer, who was looking back at him with an expression that said 'get ready, here they come again'.

"Sayid, what are you talking about?" Jack asked.

"Shannon has been distancing herself from me for the longest time. At first I wanted to believe it was paranoia on my part. She really did love me, I know she did."

Sayid trailed off again, smiling, chin jutting toward the two of them.

"But we were never written in stone."

"How can you be sure the Others bought off your girl?" Sawyer asked, and Jack was surprised to hear how gently he'd said it. Sawyer never had any use for Sayid after their bad start, but they were all in this together now.

"Because she told me so," Sayid nodded at their shocked expressions. "I have three British intelligence agents on the lookout for him, but somehow Ben Linus waltzes off the island, has coffee with Shannon in London and hands her a few million dollars to leave me, to crush my will. She just called to say she's moved out. The only condition is she can never see me again."

There was barely a second of silence before Sayid went on, smiling bleakly.

"She had some advice for us," he said. "She said 'If you can't beat them, join them.'"

* * *

They spent most of the day with Jin, who mostly slept. Then they went for a late dinner. All the way to the restaurant, Jack pictured Jin's smile, how relieved he looked at the sight of them, at not being alone, at hearing they'd be back tomorrow.

"We were perfect," he'd told Jack after lifting his head to show Jack his stitches, his mending skull. "When we got home it was… so perfect. More than I dreamed we would have."

The four of them didn't come up with much in the way of a solution over their meal. With Jin's attack, there were police and other government agencies investigating now, but none of them held out much hope there. Sawyer was for arming themselves heavily and fucking up whoever came at them. Sayid suggested finding out what the Others wanted of them. Hurley just wished it would all go away.

* * *

Jack was deep in thought when Sayid suggested they all grab a cab. It didn't much strike him when Sawyer said thanks, but that they'd be hanging back awhile. He got a strange feeling, though, a flutter somewhere between his heart and his gut when they left eventually and Sawyer pointed him to a waiting town car.

It was oversized; not a stretch, but two rows of seats, a mini-bar. Jack slid in and watched Sawyer hand the driver a bunch of large bills and a card with their hotel address, heard him say "Bugak Skyway. Scenic route, okay? Nice and slow. Thanks."

He realized Sawyer hadn't forgotten their talk on the plane, not for a second. And events since had conspired to make Sawyer feel helpless. Like he had no control. Like he needed to get it back.

Jack felt a web of shocky anticipation running all through him, knew he was about to find out where Sawyer had decided he _would_ go with him, what he was willing to do with Jack, _to_ him when the need hit. And it was going to start here.

Sawyer barely waited for the car to pull away from the curb before he flicked a switch near the window and the privacy screen slid up and clicked shut. Jack slumped in his seat, watching it, ghosting his fingers over Sawyer's hand on the seat next to him. He ran them up Sawyer's arm, over his shoulder, tracing and tugging at his ear, tangling them in his hair.

"Are. You. Sure?" Sawyer asked, not moving, his left elbow on the doorjamb, head leaning on his hand. He was peering over at Jack, his eyes dark, uncertain. "Sure you want this?"

Jack picked up Sawyer's hand from the car seat, set it on his own pants over his already very hard dick, used the heels of both their hands to press down, to rub.

"Where do we start?" he asked, his voice catching, "What do you need from me?"

He closed his eyes as Sawyer dropped in to kiss him deep, softly greedy. It was a 'thank you' Jack felt everywhere.

"It's a game." Sawyer murmured when he broke the kiss. "So we start with the rules."

That's how Jack found himself kneeling on the floor of the car soon after, his shirt and fly open, cock high and hard close to his stomach, his hands behind his back. He was crouched over Sawyer, voicing soft, hungry sounds as Sawyer pushed into his mouth over and over. Jack's right hand was wrapped around his own left wrist – Sawyer's suggestion - as a reminder that he wasn't allowed to touch anything unless he was told to; not himself, not Sawyer, not the car seat for balance, nothing.

"We'll keep it simple tonight," Sawyer had said, shrugging when Jack gave him a look that said he wasn't hearing anything that sounded like a big deal. "Simple don't mean easy, babe. It's mostly hard on the mind, the emotions. You'll see."

Jack's eyes were closed, because that was one of the other rules; eyes closed the whole time he had his mouth on Sawyer. If he slipped, let his hands roam, he'd get marked once. If he disobeyed, opened his eyes without permission, he'd get marked twice. He'd already slipped, had accidentally reached for his own throbbing cock. He didn't even know he was doing it until Sawyer batted his hand back hard and said "One. That's one, Jack."

He had a feeling Sawyer would keep close count.

Jack was starting to understand the 'you'll see' part. Every other time he'd gone down on Sawyer it had been so mutual, the pleasure connecting them. Now he felt distanced, felt used hard as Sawyer pumped and twisted, stopping to rut deep inside Jack on every fourth thrust, fucking his face.

The phrase was so inadequate, compared with the experience.

Sawyer's hands were hard against his head, his shoulders, the back of his neck. They roamed constantly, pushing and pulling, putting Jack where Sawyer wanted him next. He'd asked Jack not to lick or suck, to "just let me," and after awhile Jack felt detached, like he was floating, like a living, breathing fuck toy.

That sensation only got stronger when Sawyer started pushing fast, deep, started sighing out a groan with each exhale. Then out of nowhere, _thwack_, Sawyer slapped Jack's cheek at the same time he pushed into it, started rubbing, pinching, and then _smack_, slapped again, swearing and gasping as his cock twitched against the inside of Jack's mouth.

Jack felt a surge, something achingly bittersweet flowing through him. He thought it was embarrassment until it hit full on – a wave of lust so strong it left him shaking, dying to open his eyes and watch this happening. He couldn't fight it.

He'd expected to find Sawyer with his head thrown back, absorbed by sensation, eyes closed, far away. What he actually found was Sawyer's eyes pouring up and down over Jack's body, fixed right that second on Jack's red, leaking cock, drifting up to his arms, the way Jack was holding them so straight and tightly back, so obediently behind himself.

Jack had felt incidental. He knew now he couldn't have been more wrong. Everything Sawyer was feeling, was voicing with his throat and his hips and his hands, it was all coming from the sight of Jack at his feet, taking what he was giving him.

Sawyer caught him at the exact moment the realization made Jack groan hard over him. The expression in Sawyer's eyes turned wistful, but his hands pushed Jack's head back down.

"Two more marks," Jack thought. They would be so worth it.

He had plenty of time after that to enjoy the images running through his head, but eventually Sawyer's moans turned loud, desperate. Jack thought that privacy screen might be good but damn, it couldn't block out the ragged near-shouts Sawyer was letting go of now. It hit him why the driver had been handed so much money.

Then he felt Sawyer's body tightening, tasted the first quick, short blast of cum hot against his tongue, his throat, heard Sawyer groan out, 'Now… ahhh, God, _now_, Jack, _suuuck_… do it.'

Jack wanted to reach, to touch himself, too, but he tightened his grasp on his wrist and sucked hard over and over, swallowing Sawyer down as he felt, heard and pictured him losing his mind. And _fuck_ if what he was seeing inside his head didn't almost make him come, too.

He didn't, though, still throbbing and almost painfully excited as he pulled slowly off of Sawyer, dropped his arms to his side and his head to the car seat, face against Sawyer's thigh.

"You're doing so good, Jack," Sawyer was coming down slowly, ran a hand slowly over Jack's head, fingers pressing gently. "You always feel …_so_ damn good. Can't believe you're mine."

Sawyer had timed everything out like an event planner. Once he'd had a minute to recover, he'd ordered Jack over his lap, head on the car seat, arms loose above his head. Then he petted and prepped, slapped and teased Jack into a frenzy with his fingers, right up until three minutes before they were at the hotel.

"Try to hang on," he'd bent forward to whisper into his ear, fingers twisting, tracing over the spot inside that made Jack nearly fly off of the seat, his other elbow holding him in place. "You can come if you need to, but try not to, okay? Wait 'til I'm in you, Jack, wait."

Jack heard himself whining, begging without words, a sound he'd never heard out of his own mouth and he knew it was because Sawyer had tipped his hand about what the rules might involve next time.

Then they were in their room and he barely remembered the walk there. Sawyer was ripping the bed apart.

"Clothes off and on your back. Punishment first. Promise I'll try to never leave it 'til last."

Somehow Jack had forgotten. Now he remembered Sawyer saying, 'There's no control without punishment, Jack. That's how it works."

Sawyer crouched over him on the bed and marked him above his right collarbone first, sucking hard before he started biting, growling out the deep, low, hungry sound Jack had come to know. For the first time Jack truly hated the no-hands rule, wanted to reach up and hold him while he did this. He settled for turning his head, burying his face in Sawyer's hair, panting and swearing and sighing out Sawyer's name as he felt the bruise forming.

Then Sawyer was sliding south and Jack felt Sawyer's hard-on brush his hip as he went. Sawyer was going to mark him two more times and then he was going to fuck him, and as Sawyer's teeth dug into the spot where his left thigh met his body, Jack was thankful for the lightning bolt it sent through him. Without it, Sawyer's head where it was now, those lips sucking hard right_ there_; he never could have held on without it.

"Over," He heard Sawyer say after awhile, felt him nip at Jack's ear after he said it.

Jack realized the last two marks had blended into one long sensation of pain/pleasure, and though it had made Jack buck and cry out and almost, not quite beg for mercy, he could imagine looking forward to that feeling, could imagine missing it.

Sawyer was arranging Jack on his knees and elbows, palms down in front as Jack had that thought, and then Sawyer was in him, taking him with no further prep, fucking him as furiously as he'd used his mouth. It turned out to be the last thought he was capable of for what felt like a very long time.

"Yeah_,_ babe, just like _that,_ fucking _take_ it," he heard Sawyer say, realized he was reacting to the way Jack was twisting and grunting as he pounded into him. "Tell me you want it like this, tell me…"

It took all the air left in Jack's lungs to get a strangled 'yes' out, and then he felt Sawyer shifting, reaching, taking Jack in his hand and _squeezing_, tugging so hard Jack couldn't even catch a new breath to shout with. He fought not to collapse, watched the room go pixelated, greying out as the first blast of his orgasm slammed through him, rocking as wave after wave rolled through after it.

Somewhere he did catch his breath, did yell and sob and then groan over and over, like he was stuck in a loop. He never heard Sawyer come, only knew he had when he felt a hot, throbbing pulse inside him, and that's when he let himself go, sinking into the bed.

Jack felt like the room was spinning. He felt so high. He felt like he'd always wanted it this way with Sawyer, like it was inevitable. He felt more 'his' than ever.

* * *

Jack was in the shower the next morning, inspecting the various accidental fingertip-sized bruises he'd found, and the larger marks, too, when Sawyer joined him and silently started soaping up. Jack could feel him watching for a reaction, waiting for him to say something, anything.

"Why the limo?"

"Really?" Sawyer gave him a quizzical smile as Jack looked at him, a tiny grin on his face. "That's the first thing you have to say? I chose it because a room is a room, but using you rough for the first time in the back of that thing… I won't forget that ever. Could live on that memory for months if I had to."

"Actually, me too," Jack said, and he saw relief flood through Sawyer.

"Did you come close to saying 'stop'?" Sawyer asked and Jack shook his head. "Knew you wouldn't. You won't ever. I'll make sure you don't want to, I promise."

* * *

The hallway to Jin's room was long and Jack and Sawyer could see Hurley sitting on a chair in the hall outside his door for a full minute before they got there. They saw the look on his face and they glanced at each other, but neither one wanted to say it, to think it.

"Hurley?" Jack asked, almost under his breath and Hurley shook his head, eyes dry but red.

"He's gone. Stroked out, they said. About an hour ago."

Jack looked to Sawyer and was afraid he'd see him terrified, but all that was on Sawyer's face was a very cold determination.

"It's on now," Sawyer said to Jack. "Right? We gotta figure out a way to crush them."

"Absolutely," Jack said.


	7. Hell, Yes

** I rushed this chapter, and you shouldn't rush a story. Final version of chapter 7... sheesh ...**

* * *

"Did you hate it there?" Jack asked Sawyer as they boarded the flight home. "When we were stranded… did you hate it?"

"Of course not," Sawyer sounded vaguely surprised, like he couldn't believe their recollections of the time were so different. "Don't you remember me asking why you were a broken record about getting away? Wasn't the place I hated… liked it fine once I got used to it. It's the current administration I despise, how they used us, screwed us over."

Sawyer had dropped back in his seat, fastening his belt. Something registered in his eyes, and he went silent.

"What?" Jack asked.

"Got an idea," Sawyer said. "But I gotta think it through… tell you later. Okay?"

"Sure," Jack said.

* * *

When Hurley disappeared a few weeks later, Jack and Sawyer were surprised. They'd thought the more visibly wounded Sayid would be next.

"I told him in no uncertain terms that my sources said the Others were stateside, that they had started following his routines. They knew which of his companies he'd be visiting; exactly where they could find him and when." Sayid told them.

Sawyer had Sayid on speaker on his cell phone, his voice bouncing around Jack's living room, sounding hollow, high and empty.

"I told him to 'up' his security. He chose not to. I would love to know why."

"Mighta been nice to get the same warning," Sawyer said from his perch on the couch, watching Jack pace with his hands on his hips.

"I think we all know you were never next," Sayid's voice warmed, but he still sounded like a shadow of himself. "And you're still not. They'll take me. Then they'll come for Jack. Based on when the attack on Jin happened and Hurley's disappearance, I'd guesstimate you have four to eight weeks. I'd enjoy them if I were you."

* * *

They were in their same places, Sawyer on the couch and Jack pacing, the next evening. Jack had pulled a folder full of paperwork out of his workbag on the way in the door and he set it on the end table closest to Sawyer's elbow.

"What is this?" Sawyer flipped through it.

"Sign them. Three copies: One for you, one for my lawyer, and one for me. Makes you co-owner of the apartment, and of ... whatever else I have, including my part of the settlement."

Jack saw Sawyer's jaw set stubbornly, and he huffed out a laugh.

"Don't, okay? Signing won't make anything bad happen. Besides, wait 'til you see the taxes on this place..."

"I've got a few problems with this." Sawyer had more to say, but got cut off.

"Of course you do. And normally this is where I'd ask you when you're ever going to accept me giving a shit about you, Sawyer, but honestly, I don't have it in me tonight. Just … fucking sign. Please. For my peace of mind."

Jack was always the one to say please. Usually, he was a little more out of breath when he did.

After he signed, Sawyer pinned Jack to the sofa and took him apart with his lips, tongue and fingertips. It was the gentlest disassembling Jack ever got from him.

* * *

Sawyer had only actually exerted his need for control twice since they'd been home from Seoul. The first time had, again, been about physical and psychological primacy, this time with duct tape. Jack had been amazed at how that simple, sticky implement had such an impact on his body and his brain. He'd felt the dizzy, slightly stoned feeling he was coming to know as Sawyer silently bound his wrists behind him, elbows down and palms together. He got that it was all about a rush of endorphins with a shot of 'fight or flight' mixed in, but understanding it didn't stop him from shivering as it started, from groaning softly and swearing under his breath when Sawyer pushed him to his knees and yanked Jack's shirt down off his shoulders and back as far as he could, making him feel even more confined. He'd used Jack even rougher than the first time, to the point where he drew 'no' out of him more than once, but never so far that he heard 'stop'. Sawyer seemed to know exactly where that line lay.

The next time was only hard mentally, the rest was pure pleasure. Sawyer blindfolded Jack and told him he could have whatever he wanted- as long as he asked for it in detail and described exactly what he was feeling as he received it. Jack was happily noisy in bed, but verbalizing wants and needs, asking for anything or talking it through; that was a kind of torture. Sawyer pulled every desire and sensation out of him word by word for what felt like hours 'til it wasn't a problem anymore.

They never discussed it, but Jack quickly noticed whatever they did any day Sawyer didn't need his stress release was pretty much up to him. He figured it was Sawyer's way of letting things even out, and he had to admit it helped.

That was how Jack found himself hovering over Sawyer the next Saturday morning, Sawyer sprawled out on his back in their bed, eyes glazed, feet digging into the mattress close to his ass, legs flung open. Sawyer had a hand wrapped around the base of his own dick, fighting off the urge to come. His other hand was tight around Jack's bicep, bracing as his body rocked, as Jack finger fucked him after a good sucking, got him ready for more.

Jack realized, looking down, that he'd picked up a few habits from Sawyer—realized from the random red and purple patches along Sawyer's jaw, neck and inner thighs, spots where Jack had worn him raw with his mouth on his way here. They were nothing like the bruises Sawyer extracted from him, but they were something… something Jack would never have demanded for himself weeks before.

"Wanna hear you yell my name," Jack bumped Sawyer's asshole teasingly with his cock over and over, heard the helpless sounds that pulled out of Sawyer, felt him half begging for it with his hips, half seeming to want to pull away as he came up on his elbows, watching. Jack wasn't so naive as to think he was the only man Sawyer had ever let inside him - but he was positive he was the only one he'd ever actually desired this from.

He pushed Sawyer back down, held him there with one arm as he filled him slowly and got more of those delicious, confused sounds out of him.

"Don't fight it, babe. Don't fight me…" Jack felt Sawyer's legs drop open a few inches more, felt himself sliding in a last little bit and started thrusting slow and deep. He dropped down to suck and nip at his neck some more, then picked up speed, the tight, hot friction making him moan in Sawyer's ear. "You love this, don't you? You don't want to, but you do, you love it when I'm up to my fucking hips in you..."

Sawyer's back arched and he turned his head to one side, eyes closing, but Jack wound his fingers in Sawyer's hair and forced his gaze back up.

"No hiding, James, if I don't get to hide you don't either," Jack slowed his hips to change angles, pushing up, finding the spot that got the first big gasp out of Sawyer, that made him lose his rhythm, focusing his thrusts right there. "Tell me... tell me how much you think about this, how much you want it. Tell me I own you, too..."

"Jaaack, damn…" Sawyer's voice was hoarse, half capitulation, half amazement, and it made Jack smile. Sawyer was going to be partly sorry he'd taught him to verbalize. "Oh God, fuck me..…just... fuuccck..."

Sawyer got what he asked for, got more of a pounding than he'd dreamed, from the front then behind as Jack pushed him into the bed. He never heard it when he screamed Jack's name, but Jack did, and he lost it then too, finally came from the sensation of Sawyer yelling his name and clenching around him, losing it hard for him.

Jack let himself sink into oblivion as long as possible, wallowing in it, then he slid onto his back as they separated, ready to be alone again, prepared for Sawyer to roll away and retreat into himself for the night as he often did. Except this time, Sawyer didn't do what Jack expected—he reached out and pulled Jack to him, buried his head tight in by Jack's chest, arms going around him.

"Don't wanna lose you," he heard Sawyer murmur later as they fell into sleep. "Can't lose you."

* * *

Two days later, Jack was at work and reading through charts when his phone buzzed on his desk. He picked it up, saw the text message from Sawyer.

"Thought it through. Know how we defeat them. Let's talk about Plan B over dinner."

"Yes," Jack texted back. "Hell, yes."


	8. Good Pain

"You're gonna hate parts of my plan," Sawyer twisted the glass in his left hand, spinning it on the tablecloth. "But save it 'til I'm done, okay?"

They were settled in a booth in their favorite restaurant, Sawyer sitting just around the curve from Jack, against the adjoining wall. Jack nodded, a silent 'go on'.

"Shannon was right. We can't beat them, we've gotta join 'em. Then we beat them from inside and out."

"James, why are you so ready to…"

"Really?" Sawyer shook his head. "Four sentences is all I get? Listen, these people aren't screwing around and they have a big place in their hard hearts for you. Do you have any doubt they're taking you back there?"

The half-glower on Jack's face told him he didn't, not really.

"The fact they want you all back so bad, it means you matter to someone pretty high up. You can probably topple Captain Fantastic and be running the place in no time," Sawyer said. "Meantime, I get your back, in case."

"How?"

"That group they turned into a pit full of bones; the Dharma Initiative? There had to be a bunch of 'em stateside who didn't die in the purge. And they probably have kids that grew up wanting to take the place back as much as they did. Now, with the Looking Glass knocked out, I can lead them there. If you haven't already toppled the powers that be, then the DI fights back. If you have, we let them run their little experiments, help take care of the place. They're do-gooder worker bees, only a paranoid idiot like Linus would want 'em dead and gone."

"How do you plan to find your way there again, James? I don't see…"

"Penny's crew managed to find it, once we knocked out the station. Don't you think they'd help us?"

"Maybe…" Jack was adding it up, the tension on his face fading. "If we can find them, that's half the trick - they could be out of phone range for days or weeks. But I do think they'd at least advise you. Maybe it can work."

"Sure it can. You pull off a pretty little bloodless coup, and I'll be the cavalry for you, baby," Sawyer grinned. "Won't I look fine charging in on that white horse?"

"The world's falling apart and you have time to be glib," Jack's voice was half caress, half cutting.

"I make time for it," Sawyer gave him his warmest sardonic grin and waved for the waiter. "Better get some food going, we've got a lot more to talk about."

* * *

"Maybe you should ask Sayid to go too," Jack said on the ride home.

Sawyer let his hand fall from the wheel onto Jack's knee. He'd known it'd be the one thing about the plan Jack would hate most: him heading for Ann Arbor to find D.I. survivors to talk with. Sawyer argued he should go alone, make it look to anyone who might be watching like he was simply taking off the way he used to.

"Sayid isn't much use to himself now, let alone anyone else. Have you heard him on the phone the last few times we've talked? He sounds… zombified."

"Having a goal to focus on might help him. He has hand-to-hand combat skills …"

"Hold that thought," Sawyer's hand squeezed then went back to the wheel, his eyes on the rear view mirror. "We're being followed. There's a caddy two cars back that slows down every time I do and speeds up when I pass."

Jack could feel Sawyer's situational awareness kicking in, saw his eyes darting.

"There's a state police cop shop two exits away," Sawyer said. "I'm going for it."

"No," Jack turned, saw the car Sawyer was talking about coming up on their left and tucking back in behind them. "Stop at the next exit."

"Why, so they can take you now?" Sawyer's voice was a blend of his most patient and most pissed off.

"They're not here for me tonight. I think we know when it happens, it won't be cat and mouse on a highway. It'll just happen. They want to talk to us."

"How the hell do you know that, Jack?"

"Gut instinct. Do it; pull off somewhere."

There was a long pause while Sawyer drove and fumed, angling the car onto the exit.

"Fine. If we are going with your gut we are doing it armed. There's a gun in the glove compartment. Hand it to me."

"No guns," Jack watched the caddy pulling off too, following them to a strip mall that was closed for the night.

"Hand me the gun, Jack, or I'll grab it myself. I'll stay in the car. Don't take more than two steps away from me, or I swear I'll kill them both."

"Both?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. There's two of 'em." Sawyer maneuvered the car to the point in the lot where he could peel out in any of several directions if need be. "Do your talking and keep it short, 'cause everything in me wants to take them out."

* * *

"Why can't you leave us alone?" It fell off of Jack's tongue, the only thing he really wanted to know.

He was standing half a step in front of the passenger's door of Sawyer's car, staring at two men barely visible in the dark lot, their hands up and no weapons showing. Although Jack never looked back, he could almost feel Sawyer relaxing half a degree behind him.

"Sorry, Jack. That question's way above my pay grade." A warm, lackadaisical voice answered and Jack squinted.

"Tom?"

"Yeah, man, good to see you," Tom Friendly half saluted. Tom and his friend dropped their arms, but kept them visible, away from their jackets and pockets. "I'd say that's a Ben matter, or a Jacob question, maybe. You'll get to ask 'em soon enough."

"Why are you following us? Why are you here?"

"We have … business in L.A. It's not all about the six of you, Jack, no insult intended. But since we were in the nabe, we were asked to tell your friends to stop fighting us so goddamn hard."

"Is that why you killed Jin? Because he fought back?" It was another question big on Jack's mind.

"No, man, he died 'cause he didn't have it in him to stop fighting," Tom said. "That's the thing you need to know: We never meant for it to happen. It was so unfortunate. And Jack, hitting Sawyer on his bike – that was a rookie mistake by a new recruit, you gotta believe me. We were only looking to deliver a message, not run him off the highway."

Tom paused a second while Jack shifted, almost pacing in place, a hand sweeping over his head in angry distraction.

"But all apologies aside, tell your boy back there and tell Sayid, too, not to try so hard to make a point. When we come for Sayid… when Sawyer sees us next… it'll all go better if they stay cool. We don't want any more unnecessary blood on our hands. It doesn't have to be that way – and we hope it won't be, okay?"

Tom and his companion started walking back to their car, then, message delivered.

"Hey," Jack pointed at the guy who'd been silent all this time. "What's your name?"

"Bram," the guy called back, stopping near their car door.

"Bram, why are you here? Why do you think it's okay to mess with people's lives this way?"

They all knew it was the same question Jack had asked right off the top, re-worded, but Jack got at least a hint of an answer before they left.

"'Cause I want to be on the side that's going to save the world," Brahm said. "You will too, Jack. Once you get home and you hear the whole deal… I have faith you'll want that too."

* * *

Plan or no plan, the encounter on the highway clearly freaked Sawyer out. He was silent the rest of the way home and had Jack pinned tightly against the faucet wall of their shower not five minutes after they got there, legs intertwined, fucking Jack's hipbone as he held both of Jack's wrists above his head in one hand. The last part wasn't really necessary, Jack would have held his hands in place wherever Sawyer wanted, but it felt good to pin him, to feel Jack's pulse racing under his thumb whenever he pressed in.

He worked Jack's mouth hard for awhile with his own until Jack's lips were red and sensitized, sucked and bit until he got a quick, shocked 'ow' out of him, and Jack bit back.

"Stop it," Sawyer growled, cornering him against the tile even closer with his body and his free hand. "Tongue out."

Jack did it, bracing, felt Sawyer nip at the tip and then angle himself, taking the right side of Jack's tongue in his teeth and bearing down, biting until Jack was groaning out a stunned sound, his knees ready to give way from the lightning bolts shooting through his body in shivering waves. Sawyer had to half hold him up, was shaking his head ever so slightly and murmuring a contented sound as it went on and on.

"Fuck," Jack spit the word when Sawyer let go, a hand going to his mouth, half expecting to find blood. "Not screwing around tonight, huh?"

"Hey, Jack," Sawyer took it down a notch, asking the question between more bruising kisses. "Did you like that? Tell me."

"Like is such an overused word," Jack said, and he felt Sawyer's lips shift as he smiled against Jack's neck.

"Who's being glib now, babe? Did you like it? I need to know."

Jack didn't answer out loud, nodded hard enough with his chin over Sawyer's shoulder that he'd feel the affirmation.

"Thought so. Noticed it the night I marked you, how you liked that, too," Sawyer hit the taps off and reached back for a towel, handed it to Jack. "C'mon. Wanna try something a little harder. I want… well, sensation play is the fancy term, but let's not dress it up, it's pain play. I want to see if I can make you come from it. Trust me?"

"Yes," Jack said it so soft it was almost a whisper, but there was no doubt in it.

Sawyer urged Jack to his knees the second they got out of the shower, and Jack realized why he'd been attacking his mouth in such a concerted way; Sawyer's cock felt absurdly oversized and impossibly slick against his raw, bite-swollen mouth and tongue. Jack moaned softly at both the realization and the sensation, his head bobbing, his mouth feeling so full, so over-stimulated as he sucked him, the earthy sand/salt/skin-after-a-tan taste that was pure Sawyer stinging and soothing him at the same time.

No wonder he'd liked the place, Jack thought as he sucked him like candy. Sawyer was practically made of tropical island, the human equivalent of a hot, sunny day at the beach.

Sawyer took him that way for a few minutes, a hand on Jack's shoulder and one in his hair, stroking, sighing encouraging words down to him, then he urged him off him and up, and led him back to their room.

"Wait here," Sawyer had left him standing not far from their bed, placing Jack's hands against the wall, a wordless way of asking him to keep them there until he said so. Then he flipped the bed sheets, arranging pillows, looking in a nightstand drawer until Jack laughed, his head dropping to the wall, grinning over at him.

"What?" Sawyer asked.

"You're adorable, arranging the room before you fuck me. Kills me when you do that."

"I don't want to be fumbling for things. I would think….." he took one more look around and walked back to Jack. "You'd appreciate the attention to detail and the concern for your well-orchestrated orgasm."

"I do," Jack said, his voice deep with anticipation as Sawyer stepped in behind him and to his right, wrapped one arm in front of Jack, holding him, ran the other down his back, tracing lazily with his fingers, urging Jack's feet back a little further from the wall. Jack sighed, feeling Sawyer hard against him again.

"Rules, please?" Jack asked.

"Just leave your hands where I tell you, that's all," Sawyer said. "And 'stop' makes it stop. But if you're inspired to shout 'no' or 'please' or 'don't'…."

"You won't mind at all, huh?" Jack asked and got the first gentle kiss of the night from Sawyer, a quick but deep caress before Sawyer pulled his head back, swung his left arm and body away from Jack's back and SMACK, the flat of Sawyer's hand struck the top of Jack's thigh where it met his ass so hard that Jack understood why Sawyer was bracing him, his other arm holding him up.

Jack leaned into Sawyer and the wall, felt himself almost stumble. Ten percent of his brain wanted to laugh, to ask Sawyer if he realized he'd just spanked him, while the other ninety percent wondered where all the oxygen in the room had gone. His mouth popped open and he drew in a sharp breath, met Sawyer's eyes, amazed, as that left arm flew, left hand made contact again, and this time the snap of hand on skin was so loud Jack nearly looked back to see if Sawyer was using a ruler or a brush. He forgot to look a millisecond later, though, as the stinging sensation flew both down his left thigh and straight up through his dick, and the combination made him swear, made his head drop against the wall again. He realized he was half hard for this now, already getting hard for Sawyer whipping his ass two strokes in.

"Good, huh?" Sawyer leaned in to whisper in his ear, and then in wasn't slap, pause, slap, it was an onslaught of strike after strike, every hit sending bolts through Jack like ground lightning that built and built, until the strikes turned into a single, rolling wave of sensation.

"You're doing so good, babe, don't forget to breathe, it helps," Sawyer urged, his voice tight with both excitement at watching and feeling Jack's reactions, and the sting Jack knew he must be running through his hands.

It only made Jack feel even more out of control, the sound of Sawyer loving this. He tried to count the hits, but started to feel that hazy, floating, dizzy feeling that made it difficult to care about keeping track of anything. There had to be a name for it, he thought, the trance he flew into now every time Sawyer took over- it couldn't be just him, just them. He'd look it up later, but now he focused on trying to tease out the individual sensations, the broad sting when Sawyer hit him with his palm flat, the more punishing burn when he used the back of his hand or his fingers across the inside of Jack's thigh. Then, Sawyer grunted out loud before a particularly hard strike, and it pushed Jack toward the wall, made Jack cry out for the first time.

"That's more like it, don't hold it in. I'm not going easy on you, babe, not at all," Sawyer had stopped for the moment, was running a hand over Jack's left hip, ass and thigh. They were both breathing hard now, and Sawyer groaned first when he started deeply massaging the skin and muscles under his hand and Jack hissed hard.

"Do you have to…?" Jack started to ask and stopped, realizing the answer.

"Yeah, afraid I do." Sawyer kept digging in deeper with his fingertips, his nails, found a bruise and pressed into it with the heel of his hands. To Jack, it felt like he was stirring coals on a fire, making the aching waves of sensation that had just started to quiet down spread and run deeper again. He happened to catch Sawyer's eyes and saw how intently they were on him, how Sawyer was absorbing every twitch and pant and shiver he was drawing out of him. Memorizing them, Jack thought.

"You're so hard for this," Sawyer's hand dropped and moved forward, encircling his cock, squeezing, and damn if Jack didn't need to lean back into him now, if it wasn't the best thing he had felt in forever. Sawyer let him fuck into his grip, drank in the moans that were getting louder, shakier. "Knew you'd get off on this. Know you so well, better than you know yourself."

He gave a couple of strokes, a thumb swipe and then let go, hushed Jack when he gasped in frustration.

"Sorry, not yet. Round two now. Your skin's bright pink but it'll be red before we're done, red from side to side. I know it feels crazy intense the first time, but I promise, by the time you wake up it won't be any worse than not wanting to sit down much at work. Swear I'll never truly hurt you."

"I know," Jack said as Sawyer shifted, Sawyer's left hand still hot from striking him now the one against Jack's chest, his right hand and arm going back, getting ready to even things out. "Know you won't."

The next round was even more of a blur. The strikes weren't quite as hard, Sawyer being left-handed, but he found creative ways to make up for it, and by the time Sawyer led Jack the few steps to their bed, Jack was so out of his body he never really noticed. It only registered where he was when he felt the sheets and a small mountain of pillows cool underneath him. A few of them were under his chest, several under his middle jutting his ass up for Sawyer's convenience, and one cloud-like example of pillow perfection lay directly under his aching, twitching cock. His brain had no idea his hips were fucking that pillow until he heard Sawyer chuckling in his ear before sliding down.

"Almost there," Sawyer said and Jack sighed when he felt Sawyer's lips and tongue dragging down his back, his fingers following them, his mouth circling and sucking at the indentation at the bottom of Jack's spine, licking the sweat out of it before… he bit.

Jack let go any pretense of control, groaning and pleading, mostly with his breath and his throat but the rest of his body not far behind. He did cry out 'no' and started begging 'please', because he knew what was next even before it happened, before Sawyer tore into his truly-red hips, ass, and thighs with his teeth, holding his thrashing lower body down hard, spinning a web of pleasure/pain that was so intense Jack felt taken over by it, felt it shaking him apart. He heard himself sobbing, felt like if it didn't stop soon, he'd break into a thousand pieces. And just as much as most of him wanted it to stop now, please God, part of him wanted it to go on forever.

Right before Jack lost it, he felt Sawyer stop biting, felt a single finger enter him, slick, cool, pushing deep, felt Sawyer spreading him with his other hand, his tongue circling his finger fast, electric and unpredictable, and it was beyond reason how good that felt.

It wasn't, though, what made him come. What finally did that was the one last wind up, one last stinging smack of Sawyer's hand against his ass that drove the last bits of Jack's brain straight out of his head and into subspace, made him groan out "James" and fuck the bed hard as it rolled through him, a wave of pleasure that felt as alive as Sawyer's teasing, prodding tongue still working him.

Jack vaguely heard Sawyer asking permission to fuck his blissed-out body, later only generally recalled feeling and hearing him come. Then there was the sensation of a hot towel run firmly over him everywhere, of a huge, down comforter he didn't know they had settling like a cloud as Sawyer tossed it over them, climbing into bed, curling up against him, whispering how amazing Jack was, how good it had felt to give him what he needed, whispering reassurances that it was all going to be okay, until Jack fell asleep.

* * *

Twelve hours later he stumbled downstairs to find Sawyer on the couch, reading the paper, a huge pot of coffee on the coffee table alongside his feet and a cup waiting near it. It wasn't that Jack didn't feel well enough to go to work – he simply never woke up for it.

"Tried to wake you up a couple of hours ago, then called your office – told 'em you're, uh, unavailable today." Sawyer said, laughing softly as Jack pushed him wordlessly back on the sofa, crumpling the paper and tossing it over the back of the couch. Jack stretched out in front of him, glad they had a sofa the size of Alaska as Sawyer pulled him in, Jack's back to Sawyer's stomach.

"Hope you didn't have anything serious lined up at work?"

"No. Paperwork and new consults. Can push it all forward," Jack said. "I want to go to Michigan with you. Not a fan of you going alone."

"I know you do," Sawyer said. "But you can't. I have to go alone, or they'll figure us out, be on us like ducks on a June bug. I won't leave right away, won't leave until you're okay with it. And I'll make it back here. Swear I will, Jack. I promise."


	9. 99 Miles

Sayid disappeared the day Sawyer left for Ann Arbor. Jack got word a week later.

"So you hear this, and you get up and fly to London?"

"His landlord called," Jack sat at Sayid's kitchen table taping packing boxes together, his phone on speaker near the scissors. "Someone has to put his stuff in storage."

"He has a brother." Sawyer said, and Jack understood he wasn't being cold. Sawyer was the type to think kin first, friends next.

"Omer has a family and four businesses. And this is keeping me busy."

"It's just you and me now," Sawyer said. Jack could hear he was at a rest stop, pictured him standing by his bike, phone in his left hand and helmet in his right.

"Yeah, you and me… and Desmond and Penny and Charlie and Claire and Ka…."

"But no one's gunning for them, right?" Sawyer said.

"True. Any luck with what you're working on?"

Jack really wanted to ask why Sawyer hadn't called sooner. Sawyer had been gone ten days, and Jack had felt his mood dipping hour by hour. It felt bad enough that it prompted him to do some web searches, and he learned a new term: sub drop.

Jack heard Sawyer chuckle softly, knew he'd been caught, that despite the very neutral, natural question to ask, Sawyer had heard a lot more in his voice.

"Actually, a lot of luck. Call you in the A.M. on Sayid's landline? I'll know more then."

"Yes," Jack picked up his phone, ready to say goodbye but Sawyer jumped back in.

"Hey, find anything scandalous there? You bump into Sayid's goodie drawer?"

Jack sat back, wondered if Sawyer was picturing him slowly shaking his head at him.

"A couple of years ago, hearing that out of you would've really annoyed the hell out of me. But James, I gotta admit, I haven't found a damn thing here you couldn't wave at your grandmother. Odd, huh?"

Jack heard Sawyer laughing outright, and it made him smile, the sound of him laughing.

"Not surprised," Sawyer said, "Shannon seemed pretty vanilla. Jack, I miss you something ferocious. In case you wondered."

"Good."

Then the phone clicked off, and Jack went back to taping together boxes, watching the tape roll off the spool, shivering, thinking of duct tape.

* * *

Sawyer got what they needed and made it home. Jack couldn't decide which one of them was more relieved and which one was more surprised.

"Ninety nine miles out" Sawyer texted. "So says my GPS. Get in bed."

"And lay there for an hour and a half?" Jack texted back. "I'll be done and asleep."

"No, fool. Closer to then."

"Are you texting and driving? Stop texting and driving. It's dangerous." Jack wrote, standing over the kitchen island, elbows on the marble, waiting for the response.

"Bossy."

* * *

"Hi," Sawyer said softly, simply when he walked in the door, toeing off his shoes and tossing his duffel bag behind the hallway table. "Lots more to tell you about. Found 'em, Jack. All the top D.I. leaders. Got them on board."

"And why did you go to all that hard work?" Jack asked, and Sawyer stopped flat just past the foyer, his head tilted to one side, a confused smile playing at his mouth.

"Um, so that whatever these fools we are fighting do to us… we have a shot at ending up happily ever after?"

"Exactly. And that's like oxygen, it's all I'm living for - I'll need every detail. But right now, James? I've heard your voice for less than an hour the last five weeks. And as good as my memory is, no picture of you in my head was as beautiful as you are standing here. So I'd _really_ appreciate it if you'd save it for later and come take me fucking apart."

Jack had been standing half way between the door and the back of the living room when he'd said it, and it was a blur how fast Sawyer had him against the wall. He huffed out a laugh, felt Sawyer's hands and hips hard on him but his mouth so soft, each gentle, deep suck, every slide of tongue against tongue and aching sigh telling Jack he wasn't the only one who'd been starving to death all those weeks.

* * *

"There are dozens of 'em. And they're all highly motivated to get back to work. Did you know what they were up to with all those hatches?"

Jack shook his head, half lifted it to look up at Sawyer, let it drop back to Sawyer's shoulder. He was trying hard to concentrate on what he had to say, but sleep was calling.

"They're researching how to prevent the end of the world. How could you not be in favor of that? You're gonna have to clean house, babe. When you're in charge, you should clear ranks in that Others camp. Freaking fools, killing the people who want to stop an apocalypse."

"I'll do… my best…" Jack was asleep before he got it out of his mouth, never heard Sawyer's low, "no kidding, know you will," never felt his last kiss goodnight.

* * *

They had more time to talk it out than either of them had imagined. It had felt like the Others were on their backs the whole time Sawyer was gone, but then somehow they simply faded from the horizon. The two of them fell back into the routine of life- work for Jack, the classes Sawyer had started, week after week rolling quietly along until the day when it all changed again.

An envelope, a note slid under the front door: "Say Your Goodbyes."

Their conversations got more focused, the fucks more frequent and intense.

"Why aren't you at work?" Sawyer asked Jack on a Monday when he found him in the kitchen at 10 a.m., staring out the window.

"I took a leave of absence. Doesn't make sense to leave any patients hanging when it happens."

Sawyer couldn't argue, just wrapped himself around Jack's back, head on his shoulder.

"If it doesn't work out like we hope, if we can't… you should get on with things," Jack said.

"Screw that." Sawyer said. "Shut the hell up."

Jack was sitting at the dining room table a few afternoons later, sorting paperwork into envelopes – mortgage, taxes, insurance, light bill. It hit him he wouldn't really miss the mundane parts of civilized life, if he was honest with himself.

"Hey," Sawyer swooped in, back from a ride Jack noticed seemed a little on the long side. He dropped a slick, red bag with a big gold label on the table. "Take a look. Think it over. You can say no, and I will understand."

Jack recognized the logo of the tonier of the local sex shops, despite never having actually stepped in the place.

"James," he said. "That night the other month… that was a warm-up, wasn't it?"

"No. Didn't plan it at the time. Haven't stopped thinking about it since, though," Sawyer sidled around behind where Jack was sitting and leaned down to run his mouth over the shell of Jack's left ear, to nip at the lobe, his voice warming when Jack shivered. "Have you _ever_ come as hard as you did that night?"

"No," Jack said a little too quickly as Sawyer shifted to give his other ear similar attention.

"When I told you I wouldn't go there with you, I didn't know you had such a kink in your chain. That thing needs tending, baby."

Sawyer stepped back and gave Jack's shoulder a squeeze, headed for the kitchen.

"So now I'm thinking maybe we can go further. It is one hundred percent up to you, though. Think about it, okay?"

"I don't have to think about it." Jack said, saw Sawyer stop flat. "Yes."

"You sure?"

"Just said so. I trust you."

And again, like half a dozen times before, Jack saw Sawyer fold incrementally, relief spreading through him.

"Just one question," Jack pushed the paperwork away and took a closer look through the bag, quirking an eyebrow. "Should I take comfort none of these boxes is any longer or wider than they are?"

"No," Sawyer said, heading upstairs. "Not really."

"Hmmm…"

Jack didn't bother to ask Sawyer when. Sawyer enjoyed anticipation, but they both knew the timer was running down on them.


	10. Firsts

When a week passed with zero throwdown, Jack realized Sawyer had changed his mind.

It dawned as he was walking the hallway at the hospital, a box of things he'd picked up at his office in one hand. He wondered why and decided he had to ask, to know. Then he froze for a second, finger poised to punch the elevator button but not quite making it there as another thought struck him: He really hoped he could make him change it back again.

* * *

He got his chance during an impromptu planning session in the kitchen. One minute Sawyer was leaning against the sink, sipping a glass of water and listening to Jack talk practicalities; the things he'd gotten done, the things left to do. Then the glass was set aside and Sawyer's hand was around Jack's bicep, reeling him in.

"I need a break from discussing the inevitable. That okay?"

Jack barely had time to nod before Sawyer's fingers dropped and wound through his belt loops, pulling them tighter together, his mouth at Jack's urging it open with nothing but his tongue and a low growl. Jack sank into it because_ shit_ Sawyer could kiss, but he drew his arms behind himself as he did, wrapping one hand around the other wrist.

Just taking that position made him start to get a loose, woozy feeling, drew a needy sound out of him that made Sawyer jump and pull away.

"Don't.…" He yanked Jack's arms apart, set them around his waist and gave Jack a quick nip before delivering the rest of the thought between redoubled sucks and swipes. "Been fighting the urge to go crazy on you. That is not helping."

"Why?" Jack felt Sawyer's grip tighten at the question. "Why won't you?"

"'Cause I hadn't thought about something when I got my brilliant idea," Sawyer pulled back a few inches and looked at the floor, a sign that information with some degree of emotional content was ahead. He still had a hard time delivering that eye to eye. "Any day could be our last one in the same room, and I don't want our final fuck to involve you bruised and shouting and shaking apart."

"Even if I do want that? Even if I think I want it more than anything?" Jack asked, arms dropping back, fingers curling around one wrist again, lips running lightly against Sawyer's. "I need to know what it feels like. I don't want to imagine it while we're apart. I want to remember it."

"Dammit," Sawyer flashed a hesitant look, then pushed it away with a slight shake of his head, eyes closing. "C'mon. Now, before I think of a good answer to that."

"That's better," Jack murmured as Sawyer turned him around and gave him a shove toward their room, and then another one. "Yeah, that's more like it."

* * *

"I know you liked it when I bound you tight," Sawyer said, and Jack looked up at him in acknowledgement.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, his knees on either side of Sawyer's fully clothed legs, his hands behind his head as Sawyer fiddled with the handcuffs. Jack blinked hard as he felt them slide shut around his wrists with a sharp, triple click.

"Can't do that this time, though. I have to be able to move you around."

"It's fine," Jack was thankful for getting the words out without his voice shaking.

He wanted to ask Sawyer the plan, but several items on the nightstand caught his eye and he nodded toward them.

"Want to walk me through those?"

"No," Sawyer helped him up to his feet, led him to the wall a few feet away. "I don't."

Sawyer stripped him of the boxers and had him set his forehead against the wall, then walked him back a step and a half or so. It was confusing until it made sense, Sawyer folding him forward slightly and leaving him hanging out there, hands still behind his head, the only support Jack could hope for now the top of his head against the wall - and that only if he leaned in hard.

"I know it's not as personal as my hand on your skin," Sawyer said, reaching back for something. "But I'll give you that later."

Jack felt a little, internal shiver at how tight Sawyer's voice was already, how it had dropped half an octave since they'd walked in the room.

Before he could ask what 'it' was, came the first sting of something hitting his thigh hard, a sound between a thud and a pop reaching his ear as a jolt of energy zipped up his leg, through his ass. He half swallowed an 'unnnh' sound, felt his cock stirring already, so soon.

Paddle, he thought. Wood.

Then Sawyer hit him again, hard enough to make Jack rock forward, not hard enough to make him reach the wall.

"Settle in, okay?"

Sawyer didn't have to say it twice: The dizzy buzz that had already started flowing through Jack kicked in deeply with the next strike. By the tenth, the room was gone and the only things in the world were the paddle making contact with his ass and legs, Sawyer's grunts and gasps, and the raw, blooming bursts of sensation flowing around and into each other, making him warm and then setting him on fire, strong enough to take him away and hide him from what was coming at them.

* * *

"Where are you?" Sawyer's voice, sex-soaked and rasping, hit Jack's ear as he surfaced. "Really sent you somewhere this time, didn't I?"

Jack nodded slowly, realized he was standing almost straight up with his arms hanging in front of him, wrists still cuffed. He was shivering from the contrast of the heat flowing off of his skin and the thin layer of sweat drying on his shoulders and back, aching everywhere he wasn't burning, his heart pounding fast.

They were two steps from the wall, Sawyer's hands on his shoulders, keeping him steady. Jack could see the paddle at their feet.

"So good," he slurred, felt Sawyer reach in to make a soft 'mmmm' sound against Jack's temple in reply. Sawyer's hands moved down and back to pull him in, to rub from hip to thigh, stirring the fire, gentle and unhurried. Jack realized Sawyer was pacing them both. It was just a warm-up this time.

"Something wrong with how good that feels…" Jack leaned into him harder.

"Not unless it causes you conflict. If it does, we should stop now."

"No," Jack said, not moving. "Only thing I'm not feeling is conflicted. Feeling everything else…. everything."

Sawyer stepped back and met his eyes, nodding, face straight, then he moved him to the wall and positioned his hands behind his head again for him, taking the process slowly, carefully. Jack could feel why he was going at it slowly: His arms were shot, exhausted, and he wondered how long Sawyer had gone at him with the paddle. He noticed this time he was inches from the wall, could lean into it easily.

"Guess we know the go-to technique when I want to bliss you out," Sawyer said, and then Jack heard him on the move, gone, returning in a few seconds to press his arm against Jack's upper back. "Not sure how you'll feel about this, but can you try taking something stronger? Had it in my head all week, doing this with you."

"Yes," Jack sighed, bracing but keeping his knees loose.

"When you feel it, say 'green' if it's okay, 'red' for too hard." And when he got no answer, "Jack, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," He barely got the word out before he heard the low, sharp whistle of something coming at him.

The first hit made him jump, suck in a lung full of air and push half of it right back out. Whatever it was burned much brighter than the paddle, snapped as it struck and then slid across his skin, felt like snakes biting fast, one after the other.

"_Whaaa_… what is…"

"Green or red, Jack?" Sawyer said tersely, running something slowly over Jack's shins. He could see it in Sawyer's left hand as he looked down; a braided leather whip that forked into half a dozen tails, the whole thing about two feet long.

"Green," he murmured, pressing back into the wall, waiting, hearing the thin whoosh again. It was noticeably louder this time, Sawyer's arm moving faster, harder.

The second strike made him slump, panting, trying to push out the pain with every breath.

"Green," he got it out on an exhale, and then Sawyer was grunting, almost a groaning bark as he wound up and flung his arm again. Jack found himself whispering 'no, no, no' before he even felt it.

The third strike nearly put Jack on the ground. He stumbled, heard an obscenely broken, stuttering shout full of surprise and want, then realized it was coming from his own throat and was still pouring out of him. He cut it off, panting, shaking his head, thinking how embarrassed he'd be if he had room to feel anything more.

"_Fuck_!" He whispered, pressing back into the wall. "Red."

"Beautiful. You did great. Had to find where the line is for you," Sawyer was by his side, leaning into him, his voice heavy with lust and something that sounded like appreciation.

Jack could feel Sawyer's knuckles brushing his burning skin rhythmically, and he realized Sawyer had his fly open and was stroking himself lightly, bumping against Jack as he did, and Jack went from hard to hard as steel. Sawyer was going to whip him, and he was going to get off on it, and damn if he didn't wish he could watch it happening.

Sawyer didn't bother with any more instructions or narrative, stepping back and starting a wave of blows. Each one was about three quarters as strong as the second time he'd swung, but there were no pauses now, no time to breathe.

Jack felt every individual touch of the whip at first, until, just like with the paddle, it turned into a wave of sensation, burning hotter in some spots than others at any given second, one sting dying as another one erupted. It was impossible to lose himself in it, though. It made every sense sharper- he could smell his own sweat, feel his throat tight and rasping as he fought to contain the sounds that wanted out. He could hear Sawyer's hand moving fast and wet on his own cock, and that alone made him want to moan, hearing it and not being able to see it, but he was afraid if he started he wouldn't stop.

Sawyer stayed far away from anywhere he could do serious damage; Jack knew he didn't even have to ask. But when the frayed tail of the whip curled around the inside of one thigh, missing his balls by half an inch and making him jump almost straight up, he realized just how precise Sawyer was with this thing.

Then Sawyer sped up, hitting him faster and Jack felt something he hadn't since the night in Seoul; a wave of pure, raw lust, all animal and instinct, strong enough to tear away any logic left in his head. It's what let him stop holding it in, let him groan and swear and beg, and just as he expected, once he started he couldn't stop, didn't want to, could only let it roll out of him until he was shouting with every hit.

He heard Sawyer reacting behind him, cursing, breathing heavy, his own voice shaking so hard that Jack swore Sawyer was going to come. He didn't, though, dropped the whip instead and was behind Jack in half a second, turning Jack's head from the wall and leaning in to kiss him, deep and demanding, as Jack's moans faded slowly into his mouth.

"Too much?" Sawyer asked when he pulled back, chewing on Jack's lower lip, forehead to forehead and Jack just made a wordless 'no' sound. "So fucking perfect, Jack. You took it so well. Never thought I'd have that from you. I'll never forget it."

* * *

Sawyer led Jack to their bed and arranged him on his hands and knees before getting undressed.

Catching his breath, the blows over, Jack started feeling other things- like the piece of his brain that was starting to beg for more skin-on-skin contact, to fuck or be fucked. He didn't ask, knew what he would get next was up to Sawyer and just the thought made his hips pop, made him want even harder.

"Just need one more thing from you," Sawyer said, and Jack felt him nearby, felt Sawyer's hair teasing his overwhelmed skin as Sawyer leaned in to kiss along the line just above his ass where the burning began. "You don't come until I say so, until I'm in you. No matter what I do to push you there... you don't come."

"Or what?" The question fell out of Jack's mouth before he even thought about it. "More of the strap?"

"No, baby. I won't hit you as a punishment. Not ever."

"What do you get out of it then?"

It seemed like a fair question, but it only made Sawyer chuckle under his breath.

"So glad you're new at this. Can't wait to show you..." he added a slow, deep lick to his progress across Jack's back, pushing hard enough with his mouth to make Jack hiss at that tongue and those teeth tracing over his raw skin, pushing into the welts. "I get to control you down to the cellular level. Watch you struggle to hold on for me. Hear more of those gorgeous, fucking filthy sounds come out of you. I can go on if you want..."

"No," Jack said. "Got it. How long…."

He didn't get to finish the question because Sawyer stood up and gave him the last thing he expected at the moment, gripping Jack's cock hard with his left hand while the thumb of his right reached around to make wet, cool, lubed circles against the sensitive skin behind his balls. It sent Jack half way back to incoherent, made him drop to his elbows and beg wordlessly for more. He fought the urge to fuck into Sawyer's fist, but his hips pushed a few times, randomly, almost on their own.

"Hold on," Sawyer gritted out the words. "Slow down, slow down…"

Sawyer's left hand dropped away and Jack would have fallen flat to his stomach at the loss of it if Sawyer hadn't urged him back up. Then Sawyer's thigh was against Jack's hip, one hand reaching across to pin him close, the index finger of his other hand sliding inside him. He spun it, crooked it, added a second quickly and murmured a hungry little 'yeah, _fuck_, that's it, fuck my hand' when Jack moaned, doing just that.

Sawyer's fingers left, replaced by something hard and utterly still, thicker than fingers but thinner than a cock, something, Jack noticed gradually, that proved to be full of ridges.

"Toy?" Jack breathed out, coming down from the edge. "Never had anything…. inanimate inside me before."

"Lots of firsts today," Sawyer said, slowly pulling and pushing, angling, opening him gently with it while Jack gasped, happy to push back, relieved to be touched. "This, you will find, though, is not inanimate."

Jack heard a click and was back up on his hands in a flash, head down, very surprised by the gentle wave of bliss the vibrator inside the plug had started pushing through him. It was the extreme opposite of the whip, or even the paddle—pure pleasure like sugar drizzled with honey wrapped in spun sugar running through him. It ran out of his core, headed everywhere, all the way to his scalp, his fingertips, so hypnotizing he wasn't sure he could open his eyes if he tried.

"Too good," Jack wanted to say so much more, to tell him there was no way, no way in hell he was going to last like this. Before he could, there was another clicking sound and the softly pulsing bliss morphed into a serious fucking.

"Tell me what you're feeling. Wanna hear it," Sawyer was kneeling behind him on the bed now, draped over him, holding him close, nibbling on his shoulder blade as Jack shook, hands unsteady under him, fighting to get the words out.

"Aw God… it's … like you're in me… so deep. Pounding into me. _Fuuuck_…. I can't… Sawyer….can't…"

The 'off' switch worked as fast as the 'on' and this time Jack did drop almost flat, felt Sawyer still over him, lifting his hips back up.

"Yes, you can. I know how much you can take. Bet you could last an hour for me, even two," Sawyer dropped down to the bed and flipped on his back, sliding his head underneath Jack. "You'd be out of your mind by then, but you'd still be hanging on, loving it, wanting to please me…"

Sawyer cut the thought, his mouth sliding wetly from Jack's hipbone to his belly button, tongue dipping into it, fingers reaching to tease, to ghost over Jack's balls, the heel of his hand pressing into them as Jack groaned and shook.

Jack started shifting his hips and legs, his whole body searching instinctively for where to move, for the right angle that would let him push into Sawyer's mouth and Sawyer hummed around Jack's cock when Jack found it, pushing in. He sucked hard, retreated just enough that Jack could only get in a couple of inches. It was something, better than nothing, and Jack reveled in it, voice full of relief as he whispered out the only words he could.

"Please, Sawyer…. please…"

Sawyer gave it to him longer than Jack hoped, licking and sucking, slapping the head with his tongue and then pressing it inside until Jack's hips started jerking unpredictably, his voice turning frantic. Then Sawyer was up again, fingers just where they needed to be to bring him back down.

"You're killing me," Jack gritted the words out as Sawyer urged him over on his back, sliding in between his knees, taking the plug in his fingers and shifting it, looking for the spot that would make Jack swear again, finding it.

"Just a few more rounds," Sawyer flicked the switch and the low, sweet waves started flowing through him again. Jack grabbed the rails of the headboard, the cuffs scraping as he pulled and pushed and sighed, lifting up as much as he could to watch Sawyer fucking him with it. "Give me this, Jack. Need it so much. Gonna need to live on it for a while…"

It turned into a blur after that: Sawyer at his feet, and then Sawyer stretched out over him, fucking his hip while the toy punched at him relentlessly; Sawyer at his side, rolling him slightly, giving him what he'd promised earlier – his hand slapping over and over, setting Jack's skin on fire again, fingers tracing over the marks he'd given him, tongue running over them right behind his fingers.

And just when Jack thought he couldn't take much more, he felt it: Sawyer losing it, too, his voice breaking, fingers jumping and shaking as he touched him, the low, deep growl saying he needed it as much as Jack.

"Now?" Jack said as Sawyer raised up over him again, gently pulling out the toy and tossing it on the floor.

"Now," Sawyer spread Jack's legs wide, a hand under his right thigh, pushing back.

"Wait, the cuffs," Jack looked up to his hands. "Please, get them off. Gotta hold you. I'll lose my mind if I can't, I swear, you have to…."

Sawyer grinned at him with half-closed eyes, shaking his head like giving him even this bit of control was breaking about a dozen rules.

"Okay, but that's kind of what I was going for."

Sawyer reached up and flicked at the quick release on the cuffs, gave Jack a second to pull his hands apart and shuck them. Then he bent Jack almost in half and they both groaned as Sawyer entered him, equally stunned at how hot, wet and well fucked-out he felt from the last half hour of loving abuse with the toy.

Jack reached up as Sawyer started thrusting smooth and fluid, twisted his fingers through the damp hair on either side of Sawyer's head and pulled him in to kiss him. He kept pushing his tongue into Sawyer's mouth at the same pace Sawyer was taking him, a panting, sloppy mess of a kiss with both of them so close, but it felt the right kind of raw after everything that had come before it.

Jack kept at it as long as he could, until he had to break away, head thrown back.

"Please, Sawyer," it sounded torn from him this time, and he could hear Sawyer reacting to him still waiting, at him asking for what he needed.

"Come for me," Sawyer slowed down, got his knees under Jack's hips and reached, grabbing his cock, stroking him hard as they rocked into each other again. "Give it to me… come around me, Jack, c'mon."

Jack let go, but release denied took forever to hit, grew over seconds that felt like a minute, turned into a full-body orgasm that shook him until he couldn't focus, couldn't see. It was so much, too much, and he lifted up on his elbows, head back, unable to get a sound out as he twisted, clamping down hard on Sawyer as his whole lower body seized.

"Fuck me, fuck, _fuck_, fuuuck…" Sawyer shouted for them both as it happened, fighting to hold on long enough to screw Jack through it, then losing it too when Jack finally fell back, groaning brokenly, still thrusting, arms wrapped over his own head.

He was still shuddering as Sawyer fucked through his own release, still shaking as Sawyer collapsed next to him, turning them both on their sides.

"Are you okay?" Jack heard the question, but found he only had the energy to nod right that second. He felt fingers running through his hair, lips on his neck, on his face, heard Sawyer sighing as he pulled out of him.

* * *

Jack jumped. He'd drifted off, couldn't tell if it had been a minute or an hour, guessed it was somewhere in the middle of the two.

Sawyer was standing next to him, shaking his shoulder. He heard water running in the shower in the master bathroom behind him, heard Sawyer's, "C'mon, get up, you want this, trust me…"

The water on his skin was like the first shower after a sunburn: It hurt like hell until it helped.

He found they had nothing to say to each other, and that was fine with both of them. Sawyer had brought something into the shower, and Jack tried to turn to see when he felt Sawyer's hands slicking it over his back and his ass.

"Just arnica, that's all," Sawyer said, and Jack nodded, turned back to him, hooked his chin over Sawyer's shoulder.

Sawyer left first, asked Jack as he was toweling off to give it ten minutes before he got out. Jack waited contentedly, head under the faucet, feeling de-boned, then walked back into the bedroom to find the whole thing re-done, lights dimmed, every sex toy gone, their bed remade and Sawyer standing there with a glass of water and ibuprofen in his hand.

"It's okay," Jack tried to reject the offer, impressed by the effort but starting to feel fussed over. "I said I'm fine. Told you I'm not made of glass."

"Cut it out," Sawyer put the pills in his hand. "Took some myself. And by the way, I have never done this for anyone, ever, under any circumstances in my life. So shut up, please, and take them."

Jack did, watching him the whole time he drank, still staring when he set the glass on the nightstand.

"What?" Sawyer asked.

"Have you seriously never gotten someone an aspirin? Or fixed up after them?"

"Nope."

"Have you never been in a relationship? With someone you weren't ripping off?" Jack asked, nodding when Sawyer shook his head 'no'. "You weren't kidding, James: Lots of firsts tonight."

* * *

Jack woke up with the first light that hit the windows, a work habit that was still sticking. He expected to feel only the bed under him, to find a note that said Sawyer was on his bike and would see him later. He knew that would have absolutely been the case a year ago, even a month ago. Instead he found himself almost exactly where he'd fallen asleep, half on his stomach and half on his side, hitched over Sawyer.

Sawyer was deeply out, one hand over his head, his face so loose. Jack thought he looked angelic. Then he laughed softly at the absurdity of the idea.

It seemed like a good day to never get out of bed, and aside from a couple of food runs that's what they did. It was exactly what Jack needed.


	11. Gone Again

For three days Jack kept planning. Sawyer went into a sort of denial, acting to Jack's eyes like nothing was going on.

The fourth morning Jack woke up alone and went downstairs to find Sawyer sitting on the sofa, duffel bag and riding boots near his feet. He had an arm over the back of the couch, had clearly been there a while falling in and out of sleep.

"Why are you leaving?" Jack asked, keeping his voice calmer than he felt.

"If they're going to use me to make you fold," Sawyer said patiently, "do you really want to be in the same room when it happens? If they put a gun to my head or pull a knife, you wanna watch it play out from a few feet away?"

"I hadn't thought…"

"You've been busy thinking about everything else. I thought about this for us. Got another picture in my head while I did: the moment you tell 'em you'll go, and you walk away with them. I can't be in the room for that, Jack. Can't watch it, can't hear it. Pretty sure I'd…"

"Stop," Jack said softly and Sawyer flinched, nodding. The word wasn't lost on either of them.

* * *

When Sawyer disappeared, Jack knew because the pictures stopped coming.

Sawyer had said he'd be heading for the Trans-Canada highway, dipping south eventually toward Ann Arbor. He sent pictures from the strip in Reno, three from country roads through Idaho, shots of highway signs in Montana.

And then, one day, nothing.

By the time a note showed up under his front door, Jack knew he was a mess, to the point of hearing things; James' voice in another room, or the sound of the footsteps in the front hall that had never actually fallen.

They had him just where they wanted him, he thought: Burnt. Weak.

"Be here at ten tonight," he read the message lying just underneath a scrawled out address. "And bring anything you want, because you're never coming back."

It was a meant to strike a thrill of terror through him, but Jack felt hope instead. If they'd planned right, they'd win in the end. And if they'd been careful enough, then the Others had no idea what was coming at them.

* * *

**Note: Will be picking this story up under a new title, same story image. **


End file.
